True Descent
by Not2BForgotten
Summary: WarrickCath, angst,action, some humor...just read it! And don't forget to review! Complete! Yeeeee!
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Okay, THIS is the correct file. I don't know how I managed to mix up this one and that other one but now this is accurate. Let me know what you think! Sorry for the mix up!**

Chapter 1

Warrick sighed as he got ready for work, he missed his car. He had liked his car, it was a nice car. No, it wasn't some sleek sporty thing, but it was a comfy, any terrain vehicle, never failed kind of vehicle. Until now. It had been time to take it in for new brakes, that was already scheduled this week and everything. Unfortunately, it never made it that long. They had been out in the boonies, on a mountain, Nick, himself, and even Greg who'd bribed Nick with Blue Hawaiian coffee to bring him along for a little field work, searching the residence of a possible suspect. Nick and Greg were wandering about, Nick giving pointers while Warrick spoke to the suspect. It was a beady-eyed little man, very plump, and looked to be suffering from early balding as he looked to be in his late thirties. Warrick didn't like the way the man was looking at him.

"So, Mr. uhhh, Mr. Pimple," Warrick heard a snort that he distinctly recognized as Greg and looked up to see him fleeing the room, Nick following, muttering something about not touching anything, "when was the last time you saw the victim."

"Last Thursday I believe," the man replied shifted a step closer to Warrick who tried to subtly lean further away from him.

"Yes, and why did you see the victim Thursday," he prompted eager to leave.

"We had a meeting together," The man smiled creepily, leaning in so much closer that Warrick had to take a full two steps backwards, dismayed when it hardly put any distance between himself and Mr. Pimple.

"Yes, and ummm...what were you meeting Mr. Simpson, the victim, about?" the man smiled wider.

"Oh, the meeting was a, you could say, _steamy encounter_" he waggled his eyebrows at Warrick leaning in so close that had he not backpedaled haphazardly, their chests would have been pressed together. He heard a snicker and a snort and glanced up the stairs to find Nick dragging Greg away, whom was barely containing his laughter. Warrick _glared_ at their retreating backs. He wished he were on the case with Catherine, or even Grissom. He cleared his throat slightly.

"And how was he when you uhh saw him. Was he tired, or feeling sick, nervous or scared?"

"Oh no, he was fine. Very fine. Much like yourself Mr. Brown. Tell me do you workout, or are you naturally this good looking," Warrick backed away very miffed that the man followed his every step. He glanced around furtively for either Greg or Nick, anyone to run interference but at the time he needed them most, they were gone. Or that's what he thought at first, until he noticed they were in a barely visible spot, watching, and laughing. _Great, just great. I'm on my own._

"Ahem...when did Mr. Simpson arrive Thursday and, ahem...what time did he leave?"

"Oh, you didn't answer my question, Warrickins," at this he heard a squeal that could only be Greg, whom was out of sight, Nick, whom was in sight, didn't look as if he'd just uttered such a sound, but he was close though, a hand clamped over his mouth, his whole body shaking with silent laughter. Warrick was somewhat grateful when they had resumed their wandering instead of standing and gawking at his plight as he was still being chased about the room.

"I-I asked you first," Warrick knew he was losing his grip the minute the words escaped. A pathetic defense.

"Very well. He arrived Thursday at three in the morning and didn't leave till five in the evening the next day. He was _restless," _Warrick cleared his throat more loudly this time.

"Yes, thank you. Did he have any enemies? Anyone threaten him recently?"

"Oh, no, no one has threatened him, though anyone who doesn't agree with us and our..._meetings_ could be considered an enemy. We have heard a few complaints from others whilst in public." Warrick found himself being chased around a table as the man continued to press forward and he continued to back away. Before he realized he was backed into a corner.

"We should have a few _meetings _of our own, you and I, don't worry we could be _discreet." _Warrick barreled his way past Mr. Pimple, who squealed happily at the contact.

"No thank you! I don't swing that way, and you DON'T stand a chance at changing that!" politeness be hanged, he was ending this. The man rushed him unexpectedly running a hand down his chest seductively.

"Nonsense, you're just too...modest, to admit you _inner desires_." Warrick recoiled from him a minimum of three feet in what was probably the largest single step ever taken. How on earth had interviewing a possible suspect while the others wandered the house looking for anything suspicious gotten to here? He was at the point of longing for death over this continuing conversation. He could still hear _both_ Nick _and_ Greg cackling with hardly any effort and stifling it.

"Hey Warrick. Think I found something," Nick called, the laughing barely suppressed.

"Yeah?" Warrick's voice cracked with relief.

"Blood," Mr. Pimple's face dropped and before Warrick could stop him, he barreled past him and out the door. He immediately followed with a shout that called Nick and Greg to follow. Pimple huffed and puffed like a winded rhinoceros. He had no chance of escaping, and they both knew it. Warrick collided with him, bracing for the impact of pinning him against the back of his SUV, which came, but then he was suddenly on the ground struggling to extract himself from Mr. Pimple.

The car had been parked on an incline; if it could even count as that it was so miniscule, about fifteen feet away from a drop off steep enough to call a cliff. The car _should_ have been save, should have. The impact from Warrick and Mr. Pimple had been enough for the breaks to give out and it began to roll towards the cliff. By the time Warrick had extracted himself from the man and stood up, his SUV had rolled ten of the fifteen feet. He chased after it desperately, already knowing it was a lost cause. He stopped with a skid at the edge, watching his car roll end over end down the cliff. The windows shattered, the tires popped, the lights never stood a chance. Every crunch echoed in their ears. When it reached the bottom and rolled to a stop, it was the equivalent of a metallic boulder, holding no resemblance to the car it once was.

Greg materialized by his side. Being Greg he'd worn an obnoxious hat that rested on his spiked hair instead of his head, he now removed it, placing it dramatically over his heart and patting Warrick on the shoulder.

"A tragic loss," Warrick gave a despairing, anguished sob as he stared at his car. Just then the car exploded; a massive column of flames, a mushroom cloud of smoke and flame. Another anguished cry, followed by another and another. Greg continued to pat his shoulder though he didn't seem to notice even as he gave a low whistle.

"When she burns, she _burns," _He commented rewarded with a despairing cry. Nick came to stand on Warrick's other side for a moment since Mr. Pimple was currently handcuffed to a bench. He could still see the mushroom cloud hardly moved from its original location, retaining its shape as it traveled. There were a couple of smaller mushroom cloud explosions. This car _knew _how to _die!_ Nick and Greg each took an arm and began to lead Warrick, whom looked to be in shock, away from the cliff.

"My...My car!"

"There, there Warrick, we'll get you a new one."

"My car!"

"She led a good life."

"He...He killed my _car...my_ car!"

"She died a good death," Greg announced. They both looked at him stunned. Warrick looked like he was close to crying and they wondered if that was something they might witness soon.

"But..."

"Think about it. What better way to die then rolling end over end down a cliff until she looks like a bowling ball and when she comes to a stop to burst into flames with a mushroom cloud explosion. There's no better way to go then that." Warrick was speechless, and Nick didn't verbalize it, but he kind of agreed with Greg. This was quite a way to go. They sat Warrick down on the front porch, well away from Mr. Pimple, Greg practiced his skills, finishing the interview, while Nick call Catherine for a ride.

"Willows."

"Hey Cath, its Nick."

"Hey Nicky, how's the case going? I hear Greg bribed you to take him along."

"Yeah that coffee is addictive, I couldn't help myself. Are you busy?"

"Ummm...no, I just finished my case, why?"

"We're three hours out from Vegas and we need a ride."

"Nick, what did you do walk there?"

"Hold on a sec," she heard him shift the phone away from his mouth.

"Greg! Greg! Get Warrick away from the cliff, this is already a bad day for him, no need to offer him opportunity on a silver platter! Enough has gone over the cliff already!"

"Sorry about that, Warrick's in mourning. Yes, we need a ride."

"Why is Warrick in mourning? What went over the cliff?"

"The car."

"Wait, what happened to Warrick's car?"

"It went over the cliff."

"Why didn't you call a tow truck or something to haul it back up?"

"There's nothin' salvageable about it, there was a mushroom cloud of flame and everything. _This car_ _is dead_."she sighed heavily.

"Alright, just sit tight for a while, I'm on my way."

"Thanks, you're a life saver."

"I know I know, you love me, see you in a couple of hours." Nick went over to the bench where Mr. Pimple was cuffed to and Warrick now sat so he couldn't escape to the cliff again. Mr. Pimple was again swooning over Warrick. This went on for a while with Warrick sitting, hands clamped over his ears in desperation. At a few tense moments he verbally threatened the use of his gun though he still didn't seem to notice that Nick had skillfully confiscated it earlier. After the first half hour of waiting in which Warrick had spent trying to ignore Mr. Pimple and Nick went over the interview notes Greg had taken giving tips and instruction, things changed a little.

"I have to use the restroom," Mr. Pimple announced. Nick grumbled and got up fishing for the key in his pocket. Sending Warrick could result in a homicide, and Greg was too inexperienced to go alone, so that left him. Pimple's face dropped when he realized that Nick was taking him, apparently having hoped to get some..._alone time_, with Warrick. Never going to happen. The trip was quick but when they returned, Nick never had a chance to cuff the guy again before he was chasing Warrick around the bench. Rick finally realized that his gun was missing.

"Nicky! Give! It! Back!" Nick laughed from a safe distance away.

'No, you'd shoot him!" he shouted back.

"We could call it self-defense, ya know! From assault!"

"No we can't! You'll just have to tough him out!"

"TOUGH HIM OUT! TOUGH HIM OUT! YOU TOUGH HIM OUT!"

"I am, we all are!"

"Can't you lock him in the house again!"

"No! It's not cleared!"

"What! Coddswollop! You let him in the bathroom!"

"I cleared the bathroom while you were ummm...romancing the suspect!" Nick had to dodge a couple of flying fists and endure some unrepeatable phrases from Warrick. Though, while he was busy swinging at Nick, Mr. Pimple had caught up with him, flinging his arms around his waist and wouldn't let go.

"I caught you my Warrickins!" Warrick _shrieked_. It took Nick and Greg nearly fifteen minutes to pry Mr. Pimple from Warrick, whom immediately bolted at _least_ thirty feet away, and cuff the man to the bench again. He immediately began to moan piteously at being separated from his love.

"I've never see a man fall in love so fast," Greg said standing next to Nick, the both of them facing Warrick. He immediately grabbed both their heads and clunked them together, _HARD_. They whined rubbing the spots that would soon be bruises.

For the remainder of the time, Mr. Pimple napped, and Nick, Warrick, and Greg, watched the car continue to burn, Greg wishing he had a bowl of popcorn. When Catherine finally arrived, Warrick had never been so happy to see her in all his life. Nick went to get Mr. Pimple uncuffed from the bench and get his hands cuffed behind his back, Warrick heading straight for the car, and Greg waiting until they were loading, continuing to watch the car burn. Warrick was halfway to the car when Nick shouted.

"He's loose!" Rick half-turned to see Mr. Pimple barreling towards him...again. He gave a faint shriek and bolted at a dead run towards Catherine's car, parked and waiting. She saw him running and leaned over opening the passenger side door for him. Later when accounts of the event would be exchanged, Nick and Greg would be adamant that Warrick _jumped_ the last ten feet into the car, practically landing in Catherine's lap, the door slamming shut just as Mr. Pimple collided against it, lips pressed into a rapturous kiss to the window, and remained.

"Drive woman Drive!" Catherine peeled out just fast enough and far enough to dislodge the man, still staring in shock. A few minutes later the remaining three piled into the car. Mr. Pimple on the driver's side, Greg in the middle, and Nick behind Warrick the two CSI cackling hysterically. They'd only just finished buckling in when Warrick made an announcement.

"The next person who so much as _breathes_ to loud gets shot. Catherine you're exempt."

"But Warrick, I still have your gun," Nick stated.

"Cath, can I borrow your gun for a minute?"

"No," Warrick slumped in his seat just about as far as he could, feet on the dash board, arms crossed looking very much like a moody, pouting teenager to Catherine. The car ride was ominously silent, Warrick's threat taken seriously.

At some point, half an hour from Vegas, Catherine stopped to buy Warrick his favorite drink, a root beer float. While she was in the store Greg leaned his head back and complained about being tired and hot. It was currently at least a hundred and five outside.

"You could sleep on me if you want," Mr. Pimple mentioned apparently seeing Greg as a pleasant alternative to Warrick.

"Trade places," he looked at Nick.

"No."

"I said, Trade. Places," Greg practically growled.

"I said, No," Greg immediately stood up, in the car, and wrestling with Nick, tried to force himself between Nick and the door. Anything to put distance between himself and Mr. Pimple. Warrick snapped something at them but they were too involved in their wrestling match to notice. Suddenly the door was somehow opened and Greg fell out, dragging Nick with him, landing in a heap. Catherine, who had just stepped out of the store, came marching up handing Warrick his float before grabbing Nick and Greg by the ears, adding a painful twist, motivating them to untangle and stand up.

"You two! Are acting like children! WORSE than children! I've had enough!" she practically threw Nick towards the car with a shove.

"Get in, and be quiet! If I hear one more word out of either of you, YOU. WILL. BE. WALKING. BACK!" and with that she tossed Greg towards the car, barely giving either of them enough time to get out of the way before she slammed the door closed. The rest of the car ride, in the back seat at least, was spent in grouchy silence, Nick now sitting in the middle. Warrick was finding himself in a slightly better mood. Nick and Greg got into trouble while he was on Catherine's good side with a root beer float while Nick, Greg, and Mr. Pimple went without.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Hey everyone! Did you like the last chapter? Hardly anyone reviewed! sobs hysterically oh well...here's a chance to review! The next chapter! I toiled especially hard on this one! Let me know! Oh yeah, forgot to do this last chapter. I DON'T OWN! DON'T SUE! MY ONLY HOBBY!**

Chapter 2

Warrick had hoped desperately that the day would improve when they got back especially the following days, but he was wrong. He would never live his "affair" with Mr. Pimple down, no thanks to Nick or Greg. They were positively _occult_ at dropping comments in the most inopportune moments. Typically they appeared like vultures around him when there was a _large_ group of co-workers around and most definitely at least_ two_ obsessive gossips about. They were like trouble makers possessed by some evil demon, never letting up. It was absolute torture and even the fact that he never worked on the same cases as them because he was working with Catherine until he got a new car, something she'd offered since she lived close to his home, didn't make things easier, they made it a point to see him at least ten times a day and drop twice as many comments. At that moment his pager went off.

Come to the DNA lab my loving Warrickins…

Warrick growled with frustration, Greg, he would have to remember to kill Greg. The problem was, no matter how hard he tried he simply couldn't snipe back at them. They had too much ammo, too much _deadly_ ammo, he simply couldn't compete with it right now. He walked slowly, with an overpowering sense of dread. Greg was up to something. Greg was _always_ up to something, especially after Mr. Pimple. He prepared himself like a prey facing a predator, puffing himself up trying desperately to look intimidating. _Fat chance Warrick, he couldn't care less how intimidating you are, we're at the lab, he knows he's safe….for now…_

"Warrickins! My love! How good to see you!" Greg enveloped him into an obnoxious hug very much meant to bring ridicule. It was at this point that he noticed all the _other_ people in the room here for _apparently_ to pick up their stuff. _Yeah right!_

"Get off!" he shoved Greg with a lot of show tempted to just kill him on the spot.

"Fine, later tonight perhaps, in… _private_," Warrick growled frustrated as Greg ran a finger down his chest. He smacked it viciously but the other people were already snickering.

"Did you need something or did you page me just to harass me?" made a point to sigh in disappointment.

"Fine, I finished these for you, with tender, _loving_ care," Warrick was dismayed when the stack of case results had a box wrapped in a hot pink paper with a fluffy pink bow with it. He tried to escape without opening the package. He knew that whatever was in it wasn't something he'd ever be able to live down but Greg jumped into his path.

"Wait! Aren't you going to open it? I worked so hard on it, especially for you!" Warrick looked up to the heavens for help, none came.

"Do I have to?" he begged with a whine in his voice. Suddenly those bunny suits for Great Aunt Dorothy for his eighteenth birthday, being pink even, seemed like cake.

"Yes," grumbling loudly he tugged grudgingly at the bow knowing he couldn't escape this torture. Dreading what he would find he opened the last of the package and as expected everyone in the room, except him, burst into riotous laughter.

Within the package was a bright pink picture frame with flamingos holding a picture of himself and Mr. Pimple holding hands like lovers a fluffy pink heart with a lacey outline as the background and the inscription _Together Forever_ hand written on the bottom. Warrick turned three shades of pink and desperately tried to escape to the deepest darkest hole on earth an die. As he ran for his life the roar of laughter continuing no one noticed Catherine walk past, a devious grin on her face.

It was time to even the playing field.

--oo0oo--

Two days passed without sign that there was another player in the game. Nick and Greg continued to brutalize Warrick without mercy. They never realized how close they were to being murdered when Warrick showed up at the new shift to find identical copies of the picture taped up on practically every surface possible. His finger had been twitching on the trigger and everything, Catherine was a godsend for everyone. She saved Warrick jail time and probably saved Nick and Greg from eating a bullet.

"Warrick deep breaths, you don't _really _want to kill them."

"Yes I Do!" he tried to charge back out of the room she'd shoved him into but she continued to block him from escape.

"Warrick just wait. _They'll get what's coming to them_," he looked at her for a moment but she was already sauntering away knowing his urge for murder was temporarily dissipated. Now _he_ knew she was up to something and knowing that until _she_ had allowed him to know, he wouldn't have a clue meant that when she played, she played _dangerous_. He would wait. He wasn't disappointed.

It happened in the break room, where everything exciting happened of course, when there was an oddly large crowd. But lately it wasn't so uncommon as everyone knew to follow Nick and Greg like flies to honey because _everything_ entertaining happened around them. Greg was currently in the break room sipping his Blue Hawaiian coffee when Hodges suddenly burst into the room though no one looked up until he grabbed Greg and slammed him against the wall kissing him passionately. Greg was in a state of stunned shock and couldn't fend him off.

By the time Hodges released him and sauntered out of the room with heavy emphasis on the sway of the hips they were both gasping for air. Everyone stared at his retreating back, Greg's jaw hanging very far down, his skin beginning to crawl. He'd been kissed by a _MAN! _And not just any man but _Hodges!_ He prayed there was enough disinfectant in the world but doubted it. As Warrick left quietly the whispers began. No one noticed when Catherine slipped Hodges a wad of green.

Catherine bided her time after that, waiting as the whispers continued, the stolen glance everyone thought went unnoticed by Greg, the rumors, they were _so_ delicious! Exacting revenge, or in this case leveling the playing field, was like a fine wine, you had to let it set and ferment before it became truly sweet. Greg bore the rumors and glances which soon became sniping comments from Nick and a few brave others much like Warrick had, without chance of recovery, at first.

Then much to her dismay he was able to turn it all around onto Hodges, start more vicious and juicy rumors that easily diverted the attention from him and without skipping a beat resumed his attacks to Warrick with Nick on his side again. Catherine moved through the halls with a specific destination, an abandon office that no one remembered was in existence, except for herself, and Warrick. Inside was a dusty desk with a pair of legs poking out from under it. Warrick was hiding under it with a pouty lip looking like a kicked puppy ready to cry.

"Awww...you poor baby...are they picking on you again?" he nodded.

"Uh huh," he even _sounded_ like he was going to cry.

"Well this will brighten your day," she handed him the biggest; best root beer float you could get in Vegas. His face lit up instantly.

"Awesome, thanks Cath. You're a life safer."

"Yeah I'm just not sure whose life I'm saving. Scoot over I'm coming in," he obliged, scooting as far as the desk would allow but it was still a tight squeeze.

"You know if you lift your arm we'd have more room," Warrick lifted his right arm bracing it against the top of the desk but they didn't have any more room.

"Your other arm Warrick," he grinned sheepishly trying not to blush at such and obvious mistake and switched arms putting it around her shoulders, the only place available. Together they ate their floats and talked of revenge and his car.

"I miss my car."

"I know, but it was kind of a spectacular death, for a car," Warrick couldn't help but laugh.

"Yeah that's true, now if only I could convince the head honchos that it wasn't my fault. You know they're making me go through all these driver's tests and reviews. Apparently I didn't schedule to get new breaks soon enough for them."

"Oh brother. What's Grissom doing about it?"

"Nothing, he says that it will be quicker just to endure, that I'll get my work vehicle eventually."

"I'm sorry, it must be awful having to work all my cases with me and have to have me drive you around everywhere," Warrick smiled sheepishly again.

"Nah, it's nice," and immediately shoved a giant spoonful of ice cream in his mouth. Catherine moved into action that day. It occurred in the break room, well, it started there. Greg was having more of his special coffee contemplating how he would snipe at Warrick next; he was foolish enough to be in the same room after all. The crowd was as usual quite large as they waited for their usual night time entertainment. They weren't disappointed.

Bobby Dawson exploded into the room, sobbing hysterically, hyperventilating and made a bee line straight for Greg, who seeing a fellow lab rat so upset was about to ask what was wrong when there was the resound echo of the most vicious slap of mankind. Greg held his burning cheek tenderly easily able to trace the red stinging out line of Bobby's hand for a long time afterwards, his jaw hanging open.

"I'M BREAKING UP WITH YOU MAN!" and with that Bobby ran, sobbing more hysterically then before. Greg's first thought was that Bobby was on crack, but his second thought was that he should find out what was really going on and chased after Bobby, the crowd following without hesitation. This was too good to miss.

"Bobby! Bobby! Wait! Bobby!" Bobby whipped around so fast that Greg nearly crashed backwards on his rear he had to stop so fast.

"What! Y-you not done rubbin' it that 'm not good'nuff for ye?!" Greg took a fearful step back.

"What are you talking about?" Bobby burst into more tears, it was like a flood.

"What'm I talkin' bout! What'm I talkin' bout! All those roses! All those nights together! They didn' mean a thing to ya did they!"

SMACK!

"But..."

"What 'bout Fiji?"

SMACK!

"I..."

"Or Hawaii?"

SMACK!

"Bobby..."

"Wha' bout Alaska! Oh Alaska!"

SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!

"Huh?"

SMACK!

"I thought you loved me! Go to your stupid Hodges then! He'll never be enough for you! You'll see!"

SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! And with that Bobby wheeled around and fled through the halls until he was sure that no one was behind him and slipped into the security footage room with Catherine who'd been watching the live feed.

"Geez Bobby, I'll remember never to cheat on _you!"_ Bobby was laughing hysterically and could barely breathe let alone respond. It took him nearly ten minutes to get it under control. Warrick joined the little pow-wow also laughing though not nearly as badly as Bobby.

"That was great! I don't know how he could ever live that down! How'd you do it?"

"Drama...class..," he choked between breathes, "My mum made me, said it'd be useful, never believed her till now. Have to send her flowers for thanks, guess she was right"

"Clearly. You should've been an actor. So, any steakhouse of your choice, Friday night, eight o'clock?"

"Alright. I should do this more often, that was more fun than I thought."

"Yeah, that really made the hard week worth it. You gonna keep milking this thing?"

"Ta' the fullest"

"Great. Well we better scatter before people get suspicious, you're the only one that's allowed to disappear after that scene you made," They parted ways cautiously trying not to draw attention to themselves, except for Bobby, whom suddenly received a severe influx of sympathy chocolate and well wishes cards throughout the week. After the big 'break up' scene it had taken less then ten minutes after the three conspirators had parted ways to find Nick, Greg, and Warrick called to Grissom's office feeling very much like they were at the principal's office, receiving the no childish pranks at work speech. Warrick endured it all with a sense of satisfaction especially with the red handprints still very much visible on Greg's face. They all received their slap on the wrists and left. For Warrick... it was worth it.

**A/N: Reviews anyone?**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: I guess no one is enjoying this story? Hardly anyone is reading or reviewing...should I just take it down? I know the beginning isn't very serious but next chapter(if memory serves me) it'll get down to the real plot...just let me know...**

Chapter 3

Catherine let the sweet victory ferment for a long while. Warrick and herself reveling every time Greg ducked a corner or hall to avoid attention of any kind. Ever since the discovery of his "affair" with Hodges and big "break-up" with Bobby, he'd been the talk of the town and it was absolutely horrific for him. The whispers were constant, whether he was present or not. He spent much of his time in a constant blush. As much as possible he remained hidden away sending poor gullible Judy to deliver the results for other cases so he could avoid seeing people. It wasn't easy; people actually went looking for him. Bobby wasn't helping either. Greg had no idea what had gotten into him but he continually got grief from him. Harsh looks or the inability to look at him at all without breaking into uncontrollable sobs or silent looks of the most painful anguish. Then there was Hodges.

"So…Gregory…my looove…" Greg groaned inwardly. He'd learned the hard way not to do it out loud; he took advantage of it to utter pain.

"Go away…please go away…" he begged desperately.

"But Greggo! We've been in secret and shadow for so long! I want to go to Fiji!" he whined pathetically.

"Fiji! Fiji!"

"I know you went with Bobby already, but you and I could have so much more fun together!" Greg convulsed in horror.

"FIRST OFF! I never went to Fiji, Alaska, or any other place with Bobby! I never dated or romanced him in ANY way, nor any other man! I go for women and ONLY women!" Hodges sighed heavily.

"I know you are still in denial after the emotional trauma of the breakup, it wasn't exactly an easy split, but must you deny me now because of him?" Greg head slammed hard against the table and didn't move.

"Oh my poor baby!" Hodges sobbed, petting the back of Greg's head. He jerked up and away from Hodges.

"Oh come on! What are you guys using! You all know I've never swung that way! What did Warrick pay you guys!" Hodges sighed again.

"Ah the extent of denial. Hopefully it will pass soon." then he sauntered out of the room. Greg sighed with relief, peace and quiet. That was Hodges for you. Hardly half an hour had passed before Nick came bursting into the room in a panic, successfully knocking Greg to the ground.

"Greg! Someone's out to kill us!"

"Yeah you. What are you talking about anyways?" he grumbled, tentatively picking himself off the ground.

"C'mon!" Nick grabbed a fistful of his spiky hair and dragged him along behind almost too quickly for him to keep up. He was scared the moment he saw the large crowd standing around the bulletin board. The crows parted like the Red Sea for them, the whispers unbearable. It didn't go unnoticed by Greg that none of them would come within five feet of them. Their eyes landed upon the two test results pinned side by side, with an inconveniently heart shaped pin, of certain…errr…transmittable diseases which were conveniently of the same strand for both Nick and Greg.

Their ears burned red, their face bright as lobsters, eyes shifting nervously amongst the crowd as the whispers grew. Among them were photos that _they_ knew were edited to be a clear conviction of their "secret affair". They glanced at each other suspiciously then took two steps away from each other. They knew the documents were fake, but it was a natural first reaction. Then the snickers began, growing malignantly like a cancer. They had one thing on their minds at the moment. Homicide.

Even though Warrick saw them coming, he didn't stand a chance of escaping. They each grabbed an arm dragging him backwards through the halls barely allowing him to keep on his feet. Quickly they ducked into an empty lab, theatrically throwing Warrick against the wall and holding him there. They glared menacingly but were inwardly terrified by the horrific smile that spread calmly across his face.

"Evening gents. Please, don't stand too close, I wouldn't want you two spreading anything." Greg growled angrily.

"I don't know what you're playing at, but this is a dangerous game. You better watch your back. You don't know what we have in store for you." Nick barked at him.

"If you two really had anything to fight back with, you wouldn't be here, trying to look threatening. Now if you'll excuse me, I have work to attend to." he brushed them away and sauntered out of the room victorious, Nick and Greg gaping at his retreating back.

"Conference…NOW!' They zipped out of the room heading to their private scheming room as they liked to call it, which happened to be the same room that Warrick and Catherine would enjoy a nice root beer float together, and discussed how on earth they were going to get control of the situation again. Meanwhile, Warrick, very pleased, went to go see his co-conspirator.

"Hey Catherine, we've got 'em scared."

"Hmmmm? Who?" she mumbled staring intently at a piece of evidence. It was being difficult.

"Nick and Greg. We just had a little chat."

"Oh? Do tell?" she chimed.

"They just told me to be 'careful' that this game was 'dangerous', Greg even growled at me." Cath laughed.

"Wow, we really do have them scared. So should we put them out of their misery? We have made them truly suffer after all."

"Eh…I'll put up the conspiracy poster after they leave tonight. Let them fret one more day."

"We're so mean. Good thing they don't know about that memo to everyone else about this being a hoax."

"Everyone else is so afraid they wouldn't dare do anything _but_ play along anyways, besides, the entire lab is enjoying they're little lesson too much."

"Ecklie's going to pop a vein. My sources tell me he's nearly gone off his rocker with all this going on at _his_ lab." Warrick snorted at the idea. If only he did fall off his rocker, the world would be a better place.

"That's the cherry on top." she laughed.

"So Warrick, you want to come to my house for dinner tomorrow? It'll be better than that Starbucks you've been claiming to be food each night. I could just pick you up a little earlier."

"Mmmmm….food, that' sounds great Cath. What time should I be expecting you?"

"Ummmm…how 'bout ten?"

"Sounds good. How's Lindsey? It'll be nice to see her again."

"Oh, she's with Eddie this week, part of the divorce agreement. He gets her one week each month."

"Okay, maybe next time." just then her pager buzzed.

"Oh, I have to go pay someone. See you later."

"Bye Cath." she walked down the halls briskly, headed for the abandon office that she'd used for the root beer float meetings. Nick and Greg barely had a chance to dive under the desk, a tight squeeze, especially with their legs drawn underneath with them. They held their breaths as they listened.

"Okay, let me see you get….give me a minute…I'll find it on the list somewhere…oh here it is…the box of chocolate!" Catherine announced looking at a long list of payments to be made for this elaborate conspiracy.

"So did they fall for it?"

"Like flies to honey. The reaction was beautiful."

"I bet. It was Thompson from the forgery department, of course, who better to forge those documents then him?" Nick and Greg tensed painfully as they heard the footsteps approach and come around the desk. They stared at Catherine's legs, fearful of discovery.

"It certainly has been fun."

"So Catherine, what do you have against Nick and Greg?" Catherine sauntered towards the door, Thompson following.

"Those two? Absolutely nothing." Nick and Greg stopped breathing even as the other two left the room. After a moment they crawled out of their hiding spot, their eyes poking above the desk nervously, fearing for their lives.

"Nick…we're going to die."

"W-what?!"

"Catherine's a mercenary."

**A/N???**


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

The next day Nick and Greg got called in early, breathing a sigh of relief when they saw the extensive notice about the prank conspiracy on the bulletin board. It detailed every little detail from the bribes to the mastermind behind it all….Catherine. For the entire swing shift everyone wandered about doing their tasks with shifty eyes in fear of Catherine. They verbally agreed to give Warrick all the space he wanted. Even with the bulletin post though, Nick and Greg were still the center of ribbing and sniping. At least it wasn't so bad now that the conspiracy had been revealed. Bobby especially, had amazed everyone. No one knew he had it in him and suddenly those sympathy gifts turned into peace offerings. He was apparently have the best week of his life. For now, they're plan of action, and only hope, was to disappear.

--oo0oo--

Warrick followed Catherine inside the house silently with a grin. Food, what a glorious thing. He'd tasted Catherine's cooking once a long time ago and ever since the very thought of getting to have her cooking again made him drool. She let him in the house before closing the door and locking it. As she turned back she blushed.

"Sorry about the mess, things have been kind of busy."

"Nah, it's okay Cath, it makes it cozy."

"How does a mess make it cozy?"

"Simple, it looks lived in, but not sloppy. If it were perfectly clean I'd be afraid to touch anything or sit on the couch." Catherine laughed.

"That's some interesting reasoning Warrick. I'll have to remember _not_ to clean house before inviting you over next time."

"Oh good, there's a next time. I like it when you invite me over."

"Of course there's a next time. Well, make yourself comfortable, I'll get dinner started." he wandered into the living room while she went to the kitchen. She had a really nice house, even messy he liked her house. It really was a cozy house, but still somewhat dressy too, the perfect combination. He walked about, looking at pictures of her and Lindsey on the mantel. He noticed there weren't any of Eddie in sight. He supposed he shouldn't be surprised, but he was anyways. He figured she would leave them up for Lindsey's sake, but he certainly wasn't going to ask about it, that wasn't his place. After a few more minutes he felt awkward just lazing about while Catherine cooked them dinner.

"How can I help?"

"I said I'd make you dinner. What kind of host would I be if I made you help?"

"What kind of guy would I be if I didn't help my lovely host make dinner?" for a second she blushed but quickly recovered, scoffing at him.

"Boy you are stubborn. Fine, you can set the table." he grinned victoriously pulling out the plates.

"So when do you get your new car?"

"Eh, not till the end of the month they say, I have to go to drive school too."

"That's the pits. It wasn't your fault the car went over the cliff." She couldn't help but snort. That sounded funny every time she said it. In all her life she'd never expected to be able to say that in all seriousness.

"So what wonderful meal are you making me tonight?"

"Spaghetti."

"Mmmmmm…my favorite." Catherine gave a knowing smile.

"Did you hear? Mr. Pimple, gosh what a name….anyways, he was cleared of all charges." Warrick groaned, placing the last glass on the now set table.

"Great, just what I need, Mr. Pimple as an admirer."

"Maybe we could hook him up with Greg or Nick?"

"Or both, _that_ ought to keep those two busy with something _besides_ sniping me." they both sat, scooping out copious amounts of food onto their plates and began eating.

"Although it would be a little mean, and I only saw him for five minutes out from under the 'silence or death' threat." Warrick grinned taking another big bite.

"That wasn't one of my best days."

"No, I dare say it wasn't, but hey, everyone gets to have one of those on occasion. The root beer float helped I hope."

"Yeah, it was a life saver. How did you know that was my favorite treat anyways?" she smiled mischievously and shoveled a forkful of spaghetti into her mouth. He huffed and took another bite as well, with a sip of soda.

"So how's the spaghetti?"

"It's delicious. Better than my grandmother's but don't tell her I said that, even today she'd still tan my hide for speaking such blasphemy." they both laughed.

"Sounds like I should have a long talk with her, it would certainly be an interesting conversation."

"Yeah, she made me pick out my own switch and lord give me strength if I picked one that wasn't to her satisfaction." she grinned at him.

"Well she raised you right. You turned out to be a fine, handsome man." Warrick blushed a little.

"Thanks Cath, I'm glad you think so." he said clearing his throat loudly.

"Well I suppose we should head out, I don't think Grissom would be happy if we were late."

"True, you go get ready and I'll clear the table."

"Warrick, I can't let you do that, you already helped me _make_ dinner._"_

"Invite me back tomorrow night and I'll forgive you now go get ready." Warrick shooed her out of the room quickly.

"Fine, be the perfect gentlemen."

"I will, you better get used to it." she smirked and darted out of the room.

--oo0oo-- Some Time Later

"Leave it to us to get the goriest decomp in Las Vegas right after spaghetti." Warrick grumbled.

"You're not going to lose your spaghetti are you?" Catherine asked a little worried. "Cause if you are, do it somewhere else, this is a crime scene."

"Such sympathy for the tender stomach!" Warrick feigned hurt dramatically. Catherine rolled her eyes. They continued to process the scene with an oddly relaxed efficiency. Normally a crime like this got him tense and in a foul mood, but for some reason it didn't this time. Yeah he was disgusted that a person could do this to another person but it didn't ruin his night. He kept thinking about his next dinner invite. It kept his mind on happier things, but didn't distract him so much that he couldn't do his job. It was just about to rain as they were packing up the bagged evidence.

"Just in time, aren't we lucky." Catherine chimed, climbing into the SUV as the first drops fell.

"It's cause we started the night off right."

"We should do that every night."

"Yes, we should." There was something in his tone that she didn't recognize and for some reason found herself blushing, but only just. When they got back to the lab she basked in how everyone parted way for her and practically bowed down and kissed her toes in fear of her revenge conspiracies. Nick and Greg especially _were_ bowing down to her, and would be kissing her toes if she let them, as they brought peace offerings out of fear. The days went by quickly and cheerfully in this routine of basking in their fear and enjoying a dinner before work.

It didn't take long before Warrick realized he was almost dreading getting his new SUV, but he kept that thought to himself. After a week of her serving him dinners, he decided he should return the favor. Except he decided to step things up a little.

"Warrick, that place is expensive, I can't let you take me there!" Catherine objected.

"Why not? It's a nice restaurant that I would _like_ to take you to. And no it's not too expensive." Warrick folded his arms across his chest stubbornly.

"Yeah and what about our clothing? We can't possibly wear our work clothes there, that's a formal restaurant." She countered deftly.

"So I pack my work clothes and after dinner we zip back to your house, I'll change in the bathroom and we're all set!" Catherine scowled. He had an answer for everything.

"Alright, I've run out of arguments. I'll pick you up at eight?'

"Perfect, I already made reservations for eight thirty." Cath rolled her eyes and got back to work, extremely eager for it to be the next evening.

--oo0oo--

The man paced the room hurriedly, holding the crook of his bent left arm, both hands in a tight fist. Beads of sweat poured down his shaking frame thickly, his largely dilated eyes flitting about the room. He tightened his grip on his arm, his fingernails piercing the skin drawing blood but he didn't care, it was a release. _Where was he? He was supposed to be here by now! Something went wrong!_ He growled and squeezed his fists tighter, the slits in his arm deepening and fresh ones into his palm, giving him little relief. His head pounded unmercifully, the room spinning slightly as the wave of nausea hit him. He bolted to the corner of the room and vomited what little he'd eaten that day. He wiped his mouth after the long bout just as he heard a knock at the door. He snapped it open barely taking a second to see whom it was.

"Where have you been! Get in here!" he snarled, latching onto his right arm this time, quickly opening fresh wounds as he squeezed it for relief. The newcomer was skinnier than a stick, black greasy hair falling around his face in slick locks, his small, pinched eyes sliding around in their sockets like lifeless marbles. He was about four inches or so shorter than his partner and referred to as Shorty by him.

"I was as quick as I could be, deal with it! You're a mess Bean." he snapped back slamming the door shut and replacing the chain.

"Yeah yeah, how much did you get? Come on don't hold out on me! How much did you get? C'mon show me show me!" he snatched the duffel back from the man and tossed it onto the bed. His partner shoved passed him unzipping the bag while the man he'd shoved went to scrubbing and itching his arms desperately as his skin crawled painfully.

"$25,000 now, another $25,000 after it's delivered." The taller man's face lit up for a total of three seconds then dropped nearly to the floor.

"$50,000.…$50,000! That's not nearly enough! Why couldn't you get more! It's not enough!" he shouted in a panic. They were doomed.

"I know! Don't you think I know that! If you hadn't botched the job!" Bean snarled at Shorty enraged.

"I BOTCHED! I BOTCHED! I CAN'T HELP POLICE RAIDS! I BARELY GOT OUT OF THAT UNDISCOVERED!"

"Yeah, you saved your skin for a few days! We're still dead for _your_ incompetence! If you had at least _tried_ to save some of the shipment we wouldn't be dead!" Bean growled, whipping around to pace the room, clawing at both arms now as if to tear his skin from his body. Almost as if he didn't fit his own skin.

"I did my BEST! We'll just have to get another! A _really_ valuable one!"

"I hope you have some in mind, we'll probably need several."

"One at least, others shouldn't be too hard to get if it isn't enough." Bean doubled over with a groan, his head pounding, skin burning, and the room spinning. He felt like he was suffocating the air was so thin.

"You blow through your stash already! Geez you really are a mess. That stash was supposed to last you a month! It's barely been two weeks!" Shorty grumbled angrily. The drugs coursing through his veins were making him snappy under the stress of impending death.

"Please…you gotta…need it….need it bad…" Bean panted against the sensation of inability to breathe.

"Fine, but only until this mess is cleaned up, then you get your own fixes." he threw a filled syringe at Bean along with a rubber tourniquet, watching with amusement at he struggled to tie it with his severely trembling hands. This was probably the longest period between fixes he'd spent since the divorce and it showed. He whimpered in frustration barely able to hold the tourniquet around his arm let alone tie it. He needed it so bad and yet he'd gone for so long between, he couldn't do it. Irritated by the pathetic whimpers Shorty gave up and tied the band for Bean grateful that he was capable of handling the syringe on his own, though just barely. His body sagged heavily against the bed, his eyes drooped, his pupils went every direction, and he breathed deep and slow letting himself be consumed by sweet release.

**A/N: Well? What'd ya think?If you've got me on the favorite story or story alert pleeeease! Review this for me! Then I can actually get reviews!**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: If this doesn't bring in any reviews, I don't know what will. Thanks to the lone four people that reviewed for this story, though I wish you'd come back and do it again. Okay, now we get to the plot, finally.**

Chapter 5

Catherine hummed quietly as she brushed on a little bit of eye shadow followed by eyeliner and mascara. She'd been looking forward to tonight every since Warrick had insisted on him taking her to dinner. She brushed on a little blush and wondered how he was actually going to be able to pay for this dinner. The restaurant was very expensive. As she applied a little bit of lipstick she decided to slip a twenty to him somehow, but unlike a girl, he didn't exactly have a purse. She'd just have to find a way to slip it into his pocket without him realizing, otherwise he'd give it back. Hearing a gentle knock at the door she bolted out of the bathroom, barely pausing to slip on her high-heels before opening the door. Before her stood a _very_ handsome Warrick Brown, in a black tuxedo with white shirt and tie.

"You look beautiful Catherine," He had to work at not gaping at her. She wore a deep crimson, knee-length, strapless dress that tied around her neck with an open back and just the right amount of shimmer. Gulping down the lump in his throat he tried not to notice how perfectly the dress hugged her curves or that his knees felt weak.

"Thank you Warrick. You look handsome tonight."

"That was the goal. Here, I got these for you," he handed her three gorgeous red roses. Catherine grinned ear to ear.

"They're beautiful. You didn't have to get me these."

"I thought you'd like them," He smiled sheepishly.

"They're perfect, thank you," Now Warrick grinned ear to ear.

"Shall we tarry forth?" he asked holding out his arm.

"Absolutely," She took his arm without hesitation. When they walked into the restaurant Warrick's face dropped heavily. There were small two seat booths with gauzy dark curtains that could be drawn for privacy. The lighting was suspiciously dim with an over abundance of candles, some of them scented, giving a very romantic mood. He cleared his throat uncomfortably. He was going to kill Nick.

"Errrmmm…not what I expected, a friend recommended this place." Catherine was quick to erase the shocked expression not having expected that either, though understanding once he mentioned it being recommended to him.

"It's nice, I like it. Let's get a booth shall we?" Warrick gulped once more.

"Uh…yeah…sure…" Warrick hailed the waiter to escort them to a booth. Once he got there he discovered that though he hadn't expected this, it really was nice. As they looked through the menus he was able to relax again.

"So, are Nick and Greg still worshipping the ground you walk upon?"

"If they know what's good for them, which so far they do. After all, they wouldn't want me to think they didn't learn their lesson of humility," She smirked triumphantly until she looked at the menu and more importantly…the prices. This place was far more expensive then she'd anticipated.

"Cath, just get what you want, we're here to relax, don't worry about the prices."

"Are you sure, it is really pricey."

"Yes I'm sure, I brought you here for a nice dinner, I don't care the price."

"You're too nice, but okay."

"You're worth it." Catherine blushed. The evening slipped by unfortunately fast as they chatted happily, simply enjoying each other's company. It was a sense of disappointment when they had to leave for work. She fiddled quite slowly for the key to her front door, a short time later.

"I had a great time tonight Warrick. Thank you," She stood on her tiptoes and plants a quick kiss on his cheek before darting into the house with a grin. Warrick stood in shock as if struck by lightning. It took him a minute or two to recover enough to go inside.

"Bathroom's on the first door to the left!" she shouted already in her room. She found herself unable to stop smiling as she changed quickly into her work clothes. She was just pulling on her shirt, humming slightly to herself when she heard a knock at her front door. Confused she pulled on her shirt and went to the door, not expecting anyone, let alone who she found.

"Eddie!" he pushed past her into the house without invitation.

"I need help. You gotta give me money!" he paced the room hurriedly.

"What! You want me to give you money!"

_"You gotta Cath! It's the only way. You_ _have to give me money, I need money! Everything you have!" her look darkened extremely, abhorred that he was here, let alone asking for money, and lots of it. _

_"No." Eddie grabbed her wrists, squeezing painfully with a little bit of a twist but she refused to let him see her wince. _

_"That wasn't a choice!" he growled. Abruptly she felt herself yanked backwards, free of Eddie's grasp, Warrick materializing between them._

_"She said no. You need to leave. Now!" he demanded forcefully. The two stared each other down, Warrick unyielding. After a moment Eddie lost, turning his battle elsewhere. _

_"So, barely a month single and already you're throwing yourself on any and all men you come across!" he hissed. Catherine turned ten shades of red._

_"I said leave." Eddie turned his attention back to Warrick, officially sick of this threat._

_"This isn't your conversation. Butt out!" he swung a fist right into Warricks's jaw. He stumbled back three steps when Eddie jumped on him and they went down in a heap while Catherine jumped backwards to avoid getting dragged into the pile. The two kicked and punched as Warrick fought to get control of Eddie or incapacitate him. Catherine looked about for her phone intending to call the police on Eddie and remembered in was it in her room. Eddie saw her running and dove after her in a rage snarling like a dog. He slammed into her back, her head bouncing off the door jam. She's squirmed between him and the wall, slamming her knee into the apex of his legs as hard as she could._

_Seconds later Warrick barreled into him, the two careening into her room, slamming against the walls. Warrick seized his gained advantage slamming punch after punch but Eddie just would not give up. He could hear Catherine but he didn't know exactly what she was doing, only that involved some very angry yelling. Suddenly he was flying backwards, not sure when Eddie had managed to get the advantage back. He slammed into the opposite wall then fell forward his head banging hard against the sharp corner of the bed frame. Extremely dazed he rolled onto his back. No one saw it coming. Catherine was pinned down, unable to stop it or get to Warrick when it happened. Eddie pulled out a gun, the three shots were deafening._

_"No!!!! Warrick!" Eddie grabbed her arms viciously, the gun still smoking as he dragged her towards the front door._

_"LET'S GO! FORGET HIM! WE HAVE TO GO!" he snarled angrily._

"Let me go!! Let me go!! Warrick! Warrick!" Catherine kicked and screamed desperately trying to break free.

"What'd you do Bean?! It was supposed to be a quick in and out! Grab her and go! What's with the gunfire?!"

"She wasn't alone! Let's go! We have to go Shorty!"

"Not alone! Not alone! You can't leave a witness! We'll get caught for sure!" Shorty darted into the house, quickly finding Warrick in a world of confusion and pain. Eddie threw Catherine into the back of an old, beat up, small SUV. She started to dive out again but saw Eddie's companion darting out of the house towards her with Warrick stumbling along, practically dragged, arms wrapped weakly around his stomach. Shorty chucked him into the back of the car and slammed the door closed, jumping into the front.

Warrick moaned, trying to curl into a ball on the back seat. Everything was confused, swirling and squishing together. His mind fogged over. He couldn't think, something was wrong but he didn't know what it was exactly, only that everything was pure agony. His whole front of his torso felt sticky and wet. Nothing made sense. He couldn't breathe, it hurt so badly. It was so cold, he couldn't stop shivering. His teeth chattered loudly. Each little movement was incredible pain and he only tried to curl tighter into the pain. Someone was pulling and pushing his shoulders, struggling to get him to stretch out, but it hurt so bad to move. He tried so hard not to move. All he wanted to do was breathe.

"Warrick…Warrick…stay with me, stay awake." His head lolled loosely, his eyes glazed and unseeing. All he could manage was a moan, barely aware of anything. There was blood everywhere. It terrified her how much blood there was. He was trembling violently, curled as tight as he could possibly be, paling to near transparency, coherency fading fast.

"Warrick, stay awake, c'mon, you have to uncurl for me." He groaned weakly as she struggled to pull off the tattered remains of his shirt. She momentarily stopped breathing for the sight. There were three frighteningly large bullet holes in his stomach. Two were high up in his abdomen, bleeding heavily while the third was lower on his stomach, larger and almost an odd oval shape. He gasped for breath more desperately unable catch that needed air, his eyes rolling back, on the brink of unconsciousness.

"No, Warrick, Warrick, stay with me Warrick, stay awake." Shorty from the front passenger seat snarled at her throwing a half full beer bottle back at them sharply.

"Would you useless idiots shut up!" the bottle barely missed hitting Catherine's shoulder but it landed hard, squarely into his stomach, between the two upper gunshot wounds. Warrick cried out in furious pain, tears streaming down his face, gripping his stomach protectively with his arms as he gasped more desperately for air.

"Oh I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I didn't see it, I'm sorry. Warrick, c'mon, just breathe, just breathe." His eyes dragged towards her sluggishly, the first sign he'd made of being aware of anything around him.

"C-Ca-Cath?" he hissed suddenly, jerking into a ball again as a fresh wave of pain crashed over him. The only good thing about it was the pain cut through the fog real quick.

"Right here 'Rick, I'm right here." She eyed Shorty warily as she spoke but he seemed to have chosen to pay them no mind, snapping directions at Eddie as they drove crazily down the roads.

"Y-you b-b-bleedin'?" Warrick stuttered between chattering teeth.

"No, no I'm not bleeding, I'm okay." Catherine gripped the seat as they whipped around another corner, their captors panic showing in their driving.

"S-sure?"

"Yeah, I'm not hurt, promise."

"Wh-who bleedin'?" Catherine's heart skipped several beats concerned.

"Don't worry about it, I'll take care of everything okay, just relax," She soothed.

"C-cold" he shivered more violently. Catherine put a hand on his forehead gently the other one still pressing the ruined shirt firmly against the wounds. He felt cold.

"I know, I'm going to fix it. I'm going to fix all of this, just keep breathing."

"M'kay," he mumbled drifting into the darkness of unconsciousness. She never had a chance to wake him as the car screeched to a halt and she was ripped from the backseat by Shorty while Eddie snagged Warrick. They were dragged into a disgusting looking hotel, up a flight of stairs and a sharp, right turn into a vile looking room. Eddie chucked Warrick against the farthest wall from the door before sinking onto the sorry excuse for a bed. Catherine slammed her elbow into Shorty's gut successfully breaking free of him and dropped to her knees by Warrick's prone form.

"What do you think you're doing! What's going on Eddie!" she glared at him vehemently. Eddie shifted lazily to sit on the corner of the bed, closer to her, looking down at her.

"I told you to give me the money. I gave you a choice."

"What'd you need the money for? Drugs!" she snapped noticing all the signs of a high on him.

"Let's just say you're fellow cops made a really good bust the other day, and I'm in a really big jam. If I don't get enough my by the next two weeks, we'll all be in a really big grave."

"Don't you tell her nothin'! She don't need to know nothin! I told you not to try an get money off her early! She ain't worth nothin till after! We'll get enough from her to get us outta this fix!"

"Out of a fix, or getting the next fix?" she questioned firmly. Shorty's eyes flashed red.

"DON'T YOU TALK DOWN TO ME!" he backhanded her hard across the face, making her see stars, "You ain't nothin without us!" he swung to smack her again but Eddie jumped up, grabbing his wrists and dragging him away from her. One thing he'd learned was once Shorty got started in that thread, he didn't stop until it was too late.

"Hey! Cool it, you don't want to ruin her, she isn't worth anything ruined!" Eddie snarled at them all.

"You better put her in her place quick, before I do." He whipped around to settle on the bed, pulling out everything he needed for a fix. He had to calm down. Eddie waited for a minute then whirled, grabbing Catherine by the neck and squeezing off her air supply.

"You listen and you listen good. We're in a heap of trouble and you're getting us out of it. This isn't a choice. Really if we were going to get what you were really worth I wouldn't even bother considering using your useless bag-o-bones, but the world ain't as smart as me. They're stupid, jus' like you, but even and dumb as they are you won't be enough. Now pipe down, or this guy your flinging yourself on will suffer for it!" Throwing her down again he stormed over to the bed again, pulling out his own fix. Catherine gasped for air, holding her neck gently as she slid next to Warrick. She sat between him and the wall, knees drawn to her chest, one hand resting on his arm, trying not to touch the wall, or think about what those dark brown smears upon every surface of the room were. She only watched the sporadic rise and fall of Warrick's chest, counting each painful, haggard breath.

**A/N: Well? What do you think? Good? Bad? In between? The worst thing for an author is to not know. SO PLEASE TELL ME! Reviews! I need reviews!**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Yeah! A whole 3 people reviewed! Now can I have 5 reviews?! Pleeease! Anyways, here's the next chapter, I hope you enjoy. Let me know! Disclaimer: Don't own...Don't Sue...Only Hobby!**

Chapter 6

Grissom frowned at the clock. Both Catherine and Warrick were an hour late. That was highly unusual for the both of them. He supposed if it was something legitimate that happened with Catherine's transportation, or even with Warrick that they would be late since she _was_ his temporary carpool, but what bugged him was that neither of them had called in to let him know. It was very out of character. As time ticked by he got this uneasy feeling in his gut but tried to ignore it. His beeping pager interrupted his thoughts suddenly. It was Greg with his DNA results; a good distraction from his brooding. Today his antic was wearing a latex glove on his head and had somehow figured out how to inflate it whilst it was on his head. He had also taken the time to paint it all different designs and colors.

"Hello Gregory, having a good evening?" he banged his head to the rock music wildly.

"Oh yeah, got those results for you." He grinned widely.

"And what did you find?"

"It was Colonel Mustard in the library with the wrench." He snickered at his own joke. He handed Gil the papers, grinning triumphantly as if he'd solved the case himself.

"Very good Greg, this will be very helpful to the case." Greg beamed at Gil's retreating back. He was looking over the results when Brass walked up to him.

"We need to talk…in your office." Gil arched an eyebrow but complied.

"What do we need to talk about?"

"Please tell me Catherine and Warrick are here already?"

"No, they haven't come in yet and they haven't called in either. Why?"

"There was a shooting, at Catherine's address. Her car is still there so it is probably a kidnapping as well." Grissom's heart stopped as he stared unbelieving. Had he heard that right? Having to know for sure he picked up the phone and dialed Catherine's cell phone.

"No answer."

"Try Warrick's, she was his transportation after all." Gil dialed speedily the rings seeming to taunt him. Then someone answered.

"Hello, Warrick, where are you?" the line went dead. Gil huffed.

"What?"

"It's safe to say that Warrick isn't in possession of his phone. Whoever answered just hung up on me."

"The scene is secure and waiting for you." Bras stated solemnly.

"Alright, I'm taking Nicky. Sara is out in the field with a different case. It'll be easier to explain the situation after I process the scene anyways."

"Good luck Grissom." Gil nodded to the comment hurrying out of the room silently. The first place he went was to Archie's lab and had him work on tracing Warrick's phone. After that came the real difficulty, processing the scene.

--oo0oo—

Catherine sat, eyeing Eddie and this 'Shorty' guy with a wary gaze. They were deep into their drugs right now, seeming lethargic, but she'd been a CSI long enough to know that the drugs could make them far more dangerous. One of them giggled randomly, their eyes rolling towards her. Not wanting to drawn unnecessary attention to herself she looked away submissively. She wasn't afraid of either of them, but this wasn't the appropriate to time to act tough. Sighing with relief as she noticed the attention shift away from her again, she looked down at Warrick again. He was looking terrible.

Still unconscious, he shivered constantly, pain etched upon his translucently pale face. She peeled back both eyelids to find his eyes had rolled back into his head, though she could just barely see some of the iris and pupil. She suspected from what little she saw that they were uneven, but she really couldn't be sure. His skin felt horribly cold, tremors coursing beneath her hands. Looking down at the bullet holes she found them no longer bleeding, but if he was jostled, even in the slightest, he would be bleeding again, and he couldn't afford to lose anymore blood.

"Warrick, wake up. Warrick, please wake up," She whispered almost inaudibly. He groaned slightly, shifting away from her a little then settled again. She sighed supposing she'd been too hopeful for him to regain consciousness. Questions swirled through her mind like flies buzzing in her ears. Two in particular burned through her thoughts like fire and only Eddie held the answer to one of her questions. She wanted to ask right now, but would it be safe to ask with him and Shorty in the throes of their drugs? Looking down at Warrick again she realized, time wasn't a luxury, she had to get as many answers as she could. Then perhaps she could find a way to get out of this mess.

"Eddie! Eddie! I need to talk to you!" she waited a moment for a response but he seemed to either not hear her or was ignoring her. Irritated she tried again, leaving no room for ignorance.

"Eddie! When I talk to you I expect an answer!"

"Would shut her up, she's ruining my fix!" Shorty hissed at Eddie slamming a fist into his ribs, very short on patience. Catherine tensed as Eddie clamored to his feet, swaying unsteadily, hunched over, unable to stand straight.

"What'd you want now stupid? I thought I told you to shut up."

"I've got a question for you and I want an answer, now."

"What now?"

"Where's Lindsey? What did you do with my daughter?" She glared at him in the eye unyielding. After the panic of the initial kidnapping the question had burned numerous holes through her skull and now she was going to get her answer. He sneered at her knowingly.

"She doesn't matter. I've put her where she'll be useful. Just like you pretty soon." Catherine's eyes went wide her heart stopping with terror for her daughter while it burned with hatred for Eddie and Shorty who was giggling on the bed.

"WHAT'D YOU DO TO MY DAUGHTER YOU BASTARD? YOU HURT HER AND I'LL KILL YOU! I'LL KILL YOU BOTH!" Eddie snarled slamming her against the wall, pressing his whole body against her own, a clenched fist around her wrists, held high above her head and out to her sides.

"I can do anything I want. I can get anything I want from you. You're pathetic. Too incompetent to save that worthless daughter, this dead man here you whored yourself too. You can't save yourself and those lousy CSI friends of yours won't bother looking for you. You know why?" he glared at her, daring her to answer. She remained silent. "No? I'll tell you why since you aren't smart enough to know. You're trash, not worth the search and rescue."

"You lying b…" her words were cut of as he slammed into her with a harsh kiss forcing his tongue into her mouth, exploring deeper and deeper. She struggled to break free of his grasp weakly, the very taste of him making her sick. Suddenly he twisted her wrist painfully so that she had to rush towards it to keep it from snapping and was forced onto the bed, Shorty diving off. Now Catherine struggled hard against him, desperate to get away. His kisses flurried down her neck pausing at the crook. She cried out in pain when he bit down hard, a small trickle of blood dripping down her neck.

"Hey! C'mon! You can share her! I want some action!" Shorty moaned piteously at the side of the bed.

"Not a chance…you're too drugged to see how horribly ugly she is and I'm too drugged to care. Get your own!" Eddie went back to Catherine, ignoring Shorty as he began to sob; he forced his tongue back into her mouth roughly. The moment he penetrated deeply she did the only thing she could, bite down…_hard ._Eddie screamed trying to jerk away but she held, biting harder, the taste of blood filling her mouth. In his struggles Eddie released one of her legs that had been pinned beneath him, and abruptly regretted the action as agony surged through his body originating in his groin. He screamed out again rearing back, suddenly freed of Catherine and tumbled off the foot of the bed. Catherine rolled off the bed, shaking with adrenaline, grinning like a maniac triumphantly as she spit out a large section of his tongue and wiped away the blood.

"You think that's funny trash!" Shorty screamed at her jerking her back to her feet by her neck, throwing her against the wall, squeezing her wind pipe closed tightly whilst grabbing her right wrist and twisting. Catherine bit down the cry of pain she so desired to utter, which was far more than Eddie was achieving at the moment. He knelt on his knees, arms wrapped _low_ around his waist, mouth hanging open and dripping blood, his forehead braced against the foot of the bed, tears streaming down his face.

"G-get me a f-fix!" he moaned pathetically. Shorty turned back to glowering at Catherine as she sagged more heavily against the wall, desperately needing air.

"I should put you in you're place like you deserve. If you weren't going to get us out of this bloody mess I'd give you what you deserve. I'm not as drugged up as he thinks. I see what you are. You're nothing. You aren't worth the effort; you're a vile sight to the eyes and a sickness to anything of worth." The edges of her sight blurred into darkness slowly for the want of air. Shorty gave a final vicious twist snapping her wrist like a twig. A choked scream broke through his tight grip, pain burning through her arm all the way to her shoulder.

"S-Shorty….please…" Eddie gasped his words garbled.

"Get over there and don't make a sound trash," Shorty paused and looked at Warrick. "Even dead he's out of your league trash, but I suppose he won't be able to complain either way about you trash," Shorty threw her down between Warrick and the wall before walking away to get Eddie's much needed fix. Catherine curled as tightly as she could, lying on her side, without jostling Warrick. She held her injured wrist gently against her stomach, her other hand laying limp on the floor as she sobbed for pain. Then Warrick's hand slid sluggishly to encompass hers in a comforting but weak grip and her heart didn't hurt as badly.

--oo0oo—

Grissom walked through the house, Catherine's house, with a slow methodology, scanning every square inch for a clue. He had Nick searching the outside of the house for any clues. The truth was he'd wanted to see the condition of the inside before Nick got inside, this was reported as a shooting after all. Brass was grilling the neighbors that had come out to see what the commotion was, but Gil didn't think he was having any luck by the sound of his voice. The first thing he'd noticed was that the door hadn't been forced open. Someone either had a key, or Catherine let them inside. She knew the perpetrator. He found her cell phone in the kitchen, snapping several shots before bagging it. He was surprised to find a tuxedo in the front bathroom along with Warrick's wallet, still in possession of its credit cards and cash. He bagged those quickly.

His breath caught in his throat for a moment when he stepped cautiously into the master bedroom and saw the massive pool of blood near the foot of the bed. He snapped several general photos after shaking the emotional attachments from his mind. He definitely had to stay emotionally disconnected for this case. Finished with the blood pool on the floor he turned to the medium length, elegant dress on the bed that had clearly been worn.

"Whoa, whatever happened happened in here. I really hope this doesn't belong to anyone I know," Nick blurted walking into the room.

"As do I. Do you know how Warrick and Catherine spent their evening tonight?" he asked, indicating the evening gown.

"Oh gosh it was her!" Nick whispered to himself.

"Beg pardon?"

"The other day Rick told me he was going out to dinner with a lady friend and that the place he'd made reservations for bumped him for a rich person and he didn't have a backup. So I recommended this really nice restaurant, had I realized he was taking Catherine I would have suggested a different place."

"Why is that Nick?" Grissom asked, curious.

"The restaurant has a very romantic atmosphere." Gil smirked at the mistake. Nick cleared his throat roughly and bent to get a sample of the blood on the floor. Gil spotted a small bit of blood on the corner of the bed frame. It didn't look like spatter to him. Someone hit their head on the frame was his speculation. Nick combed the entire floor in the bedroom with a fine tooth comb, bagging a whole lot of hair, most of it Catherine's given the length and color, but not all of it was hers. A few looked suspiciously like Warrick's while there was another set entirely he couldn't place with anyone he knew.

"Alright Nicky, I'll take the evidence back and get it processed. You go to the restaurant and see what they have to say." Nick blushed slightly. Grissom packed up all the evidence and his kit quickly, wanting answers yesterday. He was already having difficult keeping disconnected emotionally and hearing the news that the blood didn't belong to anyone he cared about would be a big step towards control. Brushing past everyone he hurried towards Greg's lab.

"Greg, I need this blood sample processed top priority, nothing else comes before it." Greg's face contorted slightly confused at the demand.

"Alright, I'll get started now." Gil watched him as he got started on the blood. He checked up on how Archie was doing with tracing Warrick's phone, nothing yet but he was working hard on it. Next he picked up the developed photos of the crime scene. It boggled his mind having to call Catherine's home a crime scene. Nick returned a few minutes after he laid them all out for closer inspection.

"Well Nicky, any speculations?"

"Well I think we have two perpetrators, and some kind of fight between them and most likely Warrick broke out in the living room. At some point it moved to the bedroom which is where the shooting happened. The perpetrators probably panicked and took both of them afraid of leaving witnesses. That or they were after one or both of them in the first place."

"Some very good speculations, all of them quite possible, but what does the evidence support?" Nick looked at all of the photos picking them up and putting them in a different order.

"Okay, so here in the living room the furniture is over turned showing signs of a fight. There are hairs in the hall that don't belong to Catherine and are from two different people that only range from the living room the hall and the bedroom. There was also a dent in the door jam of the master bedroom with a whole lot of dents in the walls of the room itself."

"Was there anything outside?"

"Some tire tread. They peeled out pretty fast, and a few footprints in blood; size twelve men's shoe, probably Nike."

"Hey guys, exciting case?" both Nick and Grissom glowered at Sara unfairly knowing she wasn't aware of how personal this case was.

"No," Nick snapped.

"What?" Nick's mood confused her.

"Grissom what's going on?" Greg demanded, storming into the room looking very confused and maybe even angry.

"You got the results for the blood?"

"Yeah, it's Warrick's, _all_ the blood is Warrick's."

**A/N: Well? What'd you think? Huh? Huh?**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Here's another chapter! Still waiting for those wonderful reviews! Disclaimer...Don't own...Don't Sue...Only Hobby!**

Chapter 7

Everything was melted together. He didn't know how long he'd been laying here, lavishing in the semi-consciousness that had returned to him. At first he'd been oblivious to everything, until a hand touched his face, peeled back his eyelid, but everything had been so dark he hadn't been able to see anything. It hurt to breathe, it hurt to exist. The memories slotted back into place slowly as he lay there limply, just trying to breathe without pain, someone sitting by his side. His heart slammed against his ribcage when the yelling started. He could hear snatches of the words screamed, mostly at Catherine. Warrick so desperately wanted to yell back at them for saying those things about Catherine, what little of it he actually discerned, but he couldn't, he could barely breathe right now.

Slowly he opened his eyes slightly, the world dark and blurred. He saw with horror as Catherine was forced onto the bed. He desperately tried to move, anything. So badly he wanted to jump up and save her but he wasn't capable, if anyone was going to save her, it wouldn't be him. Then with a sense of pride he saw her fight back, not sure what exactly she'd done, but whatever it was, it was agony for the man that he couldn't quite identify on top of her. After that his vision blurred his head pounded reducing him to only hearing what occurred. Suddenly she was beside him again. Her sobs broke his heart to hear, knowing he couldn't do a thing for her. Feeling utterly useless he did the one thing his strength would allow. He held her hand in his; such a contrast to his large cold one, hers was warm and soft. It gave him a comfort, having her hand in his, and he hoped that it eased her pain some as he drifted back into unconsciousness.

Catherine sat up shakily, working very hard not to lose her grip on Warrick's hand. It was odd to her that he was such a source of strength and sense of security when he was shot and slowly bleeding to death. And yet, the thought of going through this without him was almost unbearable it was so terrifying. She stared at his far paler face, lax with unconsciousness and wondered what she would do if he didn't live through this? The question chilled her to the bone with dread. She couldn't let that happen, she just couldn't. She looked up as Eddie shifted on the bed, seemingly asleep. She wondered if she should try to sneak out with Warrick. Shorty was gone right now and Eddie seemed oblivious to the world. She looked down at her massively swollen, black and blue wrists cradled against her stomach. Then she looked at Warrick. If she was going to do this, she had to be able to carry him, and if things went wrong, fight off Eddie. She was about to decide when the door to the room flung open and Shorty returned. No chance of escape now.

"Here, clean yourself up, you've got blood everywhere." He snapped in a foul mood. He stared down at her for a moment then moved on to amuse himself with something else. Suddenly Warrick groaned, his closed eyes sliding around, head tossing weakly. She cupped his cheek gently with her good hand. He pulled away from the touch weakly as he tried to lift his head off the ground without success and groaned louder.

"Warrick, Warrick, open your eyes. C'mon, you can do it. Just wake up." He shuddered violently then slowly, those beautiful greens fluttered open. His eyes were fogged over thickly, lolling about sluggishly. His pupils were uneven and dilated both larger and smaller than normal, responding slowly to the change in light.

"C-Cath?"

"Hey there, welcome back."

"So…cold…"

"It's okay, we'll get you warmed up soon." Catherine peeled off her light jean jacket and draped it over him, hoping it would help, even if only a little.

"Not…true…" he gasped.

"What?"

"What…they…said…'bout….you…not…true…"

"Oh Warrick, they're…"

"No…not true…I could….never….be….good 'nough….for….you…." Catherine gulped seeing his expression of exhaustion, and yet he was still trying to be her rock and safe place, even now.

"Warrick you've been everything I could ever need…don't you forget it either."

"Not…sure…"

"Fine stay in denial, just promise me you'll make it through this….promise you won't give up on me…" Warrick tried to take a deep breath, struggling to stave off the pull of unconsciousness again. "Promise?" he dragged his eyes open for long enough to say a single word.

"Promise…"

--oo0oo—

The lab was consumed by utter silence. Word had spread about the shooting and kidnappings, and everyone that wasn't genuinely afraid for their colleges were too afraid to break the silence. Greg had removed his balloon/glove/hat and turned off his music the minute he'd seen the results. All of the other cases he'd been processing evidence for were now in a basket in the corner of the room well out of his way and his mind. Currently he was double checking his results on the hairs found in the house. All of the long blonde hairs were Catherine's and a few of Lindsey's as expected, then there was a moderate amount that had been Warrick's which also wasn't surprising. Then there were two other hair donors that he was anxiously waiting for the results. The first page printed. Lionel Ricks. Then the second page arrived. Eddie Willows. Grissom had to see these.

"Grissom! Grissom!" Greg had to chase down the supervisor whom was traveling at high rates of velocity deep in thought. He suddenly had to screech to a halt when Gil stopped sooner than he expected. "I just got these done." Gil read the results quickly and whipped out his cell phone.

"Sara, find out where Lindsey is, now." Then he hung up the phone and sped away. He went back to the crime scene determined to see if he could find anything more. A fine tooth comb search wasn't near enough for him, not when two of his CSI's and one's daughter were at stake. He wouldn't stop until he found them. He checked in on Nick who was in the process of getting warrants for both Ricks' and Eddie's cars and homes, and was going to pull out a fine tooth comb for those as well. Especially Eddie's place, there was no way he was just over there for a chat.

Nick approached Eddie's apartment like approaching a mountain to be tackled. The officers quickly cleared the apartment as empty and hurried out of his way. Never before had both sides of the team, officers and lab geeks worked together so well. They were like a well oiled machine. He snapped his gloves on and worked methodically examining every inch of the apartment starting from the front door. He tape lifted the entire carpet, printed all the surfaces, and snapped photos over practically everything that could be crucial to the case.

After hours of excruciatingly thorough work and the dawn of a new day Nick was just beginning to look through drawers, having gone over all of the surfaces first. He frowned darkly at the number of syringes, joints, and many other powders and pills he found in this drawer alone. Nearly all of the syringes were empty and the other bags of drugs had clearly been visited often. He bagged all of them, which took longer than he'd like just because of the sheer quantity. Drawer after drawer was the same, packed with drugs. He really hoped Eddie wasn't on all of this; otherwise there would be no reasoning with him. Catherine and Warrick were in an extremely unstable situation with these drugs in the mix. It was nearing the beginning of another nightshift when Nick finally finished with the apartment, boatloads of evidence collected. On the way back to the lab he picked up food, starved and exhausted. He'd forgotten to eat since Griss had told him about this case. When he got there it seemed everyone had realized they'd forgotten to eat, and were all on their first break in hours so they collaborated what they knew.

"These guys are about as drugged out as they can get probably given the amount of drugs I found in his apartment. I haven't even gotten to this, Lionel Ricks, apartment yet but it'll be the same I bet," Nick iterated.

"Well whatever is going on, I can't find Lindsey. Her grandmother said she was with Eddie for the week so most likely she's kidnapped too."

"The tire treads match the vehicle owned by Ricks but it's not Eddie's kind of vehicle," Grissom stated. Everyone nodded, slowly dispersing. They didn't know enough yet. Nick headed out to go over this Lionel Ricks' home. Again it was empty. Where ever they were, they were smart enough not to come back to their homes. He called Sara and let her know she should check hotels for them. Maybe they weren't smart enough or were too high to use false names. One could hope.

Lionel's house was much the same as Eddie's apartment, a dump. It was almost on the level of a cardboard box. He set to work feeling miserable with the case. There were a lot of prints to be lifted, plenty of hair, but mostly it was drugs. Nick was working hard to get a drawer that was stuck, open, his babysitting officer standing nearby watching and waiting for him to ask for help when suddenly it broke free. Nick fell backwards, the drawer coming with him showering him in a fine white powder, copious amounts going up his nose causing him to cough violently. It felt like he was breathing sand as he sat there hacking which only made things worse as he took in more and more of the white powder. The world swirled together in exciting fluorescent colors as he looked up at the officer standing over him worriedly. Nick grinned ear to ear euphorically.

"Hey there beautiful, are you a princess?" the officer's face dropped dismally.

"Let's get you outside eh?" Nick grinned wider.

"Okay beautiful, a lovely walk under a night sky!" Nick giggled and couldn't stop giggling. He was so happy. The second the officer got him outside he took Nick's gun, badge and handcuffs along with anything else he thought Stokes could use in a bad way. This would be an interesting report to fill out. With a bit of a struggle with a euphoric Nick Stokes, they were able to get him into the back of the police car. He instantly began bouncing. It was a very long ride back to the lab. Grissom wasn't entirely sure what to do with Nick while he was high. He certainly couldn't ask anyone in field work to watch him. Then an idea struck him.

After Nick was finished getting a blood test, he took him to Greg for babysitting. It didn't take long before Nick was pretending to be a ballerina and dancing around Greg's lab. For the most part he was easy to keep contained in the room, but occasionally the lab would see Nicky making a break for it only to be tackled by Greg and dragged back. In the end, not wanting to lose time chasing him, Greg handcuffed Nick to a chair and put him out of reach of everything. This was just what they needed, another CSI out of commission, even if it was only temporary, he thought sarcastically. Nick giggled again drawing a huff from Greg. _At least he's having fun._ He thought to himself slightly miffed.

"Greggie, do you wuv me?" Nick slurred.

"Yes Nicky."

"Can I have ice cream?"

"No Nicky."

"You're a big fat, stinky meany," Nick groused.

"Yes Nicky."

"Don't you says anything elsie?"

"No Nicky." The room was silent for a moment.

"BOOOORINNNG! Can't we do something else?"

"No Nicky." Nick stuck his tongue out at Greg.

"I hate you! I'll charge you with murder!"

"How is that? You aren't dead."

"I will be soon! I'm gonna DIE of boredom! And it will be your fault!" Greg got a full ten minutes of silence as Nick goggled in thin air.

"DINNNNNG DONNNNG!" Greg jerked in surprise at Nick's scream the sighed. This was going to be a long night.

**A/N: Well? What'ch ya think?**


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Thanks to the three people who reviewed! I hope you enjoy this chapter! I'll update again when I've got the reviews!**

Chapter 8

Warrick lay there finding a new level of exhausted as he drifted in the silence. It felt like hardly a minute had passed but much more time had to have passed. He tried to take another deep breath only to end up coughing weakly. He felt so tired and cold. _Why am I so cold?_ He could still feel Catherine's hand in his own. It was so warm. _Or am I just this cold?_ He opened his eyes, blinking sluggishly, trying to clear his vision a little. He could see Catherine, sitting next to him as usual except she had tears rolling silently down her cheeks looking very sad and scared. He didn't like that, or the black bruises all along her largely swollen wrist.

"D-don't…cry…p-please….no…cry" Warrick stuttered through chattering teeth.

"Oh Warrick, I'm okay, I didn't realize you were awake. I'm fine." She bumbled quickly, dashing away the tears.

"I'll….keep…..you….safe…" Catherine couldn't help but give a despairing laugh utterly heartbroken. He's was just barely hanging on. If he didn't get help soon he _would_ die and here he was promising to protect her.

"I know Warrick. You would if you could." She brushed away a few more tears while he frowned apparently confused.

"I….can….will….protect…" he declared with a breathy whisper. Her lip trembled slightly at his loss of coherency. She'd known it would happen eventually if he didn't get medical care but it still hurt.

"I know you can, you'll do a wonderful job. I've nothing to fear when I'm with you." He grinned slightly seemingly happy to have won that discussion.

"Take…you…to dinner? Like taking…you….to….dinner…" she smiled again.

"I'd like that, especially after this. Where do you want to go?" he thought about it for a moment.

"S-same place…as last…I liked it….we…can…sit….close….there…." he grinned a little bigger.

"You like sitting close to me?" He grinned as widely as he could in his state.

"Love…it….fool….not to….do it…everyday….if Catherine smiled.

"I think that's a great idea. Dinner it is and I'll be sure to sit nice and close." Warrick's smile faltered slightly.

"What…'bout….Eddie?"

"Eddie was a mistake, that's all, just a mistake." His eyes flashed with fear suddenly, looking just beyond her. Eddie yanked her to her feet, gripping her broken wrist like the devil himself. She cried out at the unexpected pain.

"So I was a mistake huh! Just a mistake! The mistake was marrying down to your level floozy!" In a swift motion he threw her at Shorty, standing not far behind. He held onto her tight, making especially sure that he gripped her broken wrist extremely tight as she struggled to break free of him. Eddie whipped around, slamming his Frankenstein foot down on Warrick's stomach, throwing all his weight into the kick. Warrick whom had been trying to sit up to save Catherine _screamed_ bloody murder, back arching, head slamming down against he hard floor.

He never had a chance to even breathe as Eddie beat him down screaming unintelligible words at him, kicking him with all his strength, consumed by his rage. Catherine screamed and kicked out at anything that moved but she couldn't reach Eddie and Shorty was behind her, out of range from even the wildest kicks. She blinked back the tears of anger and pain, feeling her wrist break further and further down the bones into her arm as she struggled without regard to its condition. Eddie suddenly turned sharply back to her, a meaty fist around her throat, jerking her away from Shorty as he squeezed tighter and tighter.

"You! I don't want to here another SOUND out of you! One more day and you'll be sold along with that dumb daughter of yours! And him! He's gonna be really useful! Plenty of people on black market needin' skin grafts, and blood, and lungs, or how 'bout them kidneys, or maybe his heart. Yeah, he's gonna make us plenty of money!" her eyes went wide as she gasped for air that she couldn't get. Now she knew exactly what was going to happen to them. The world around her darkened rapidly for want of air and still he continued to squeeze the fire raging in his eyes. Her arms went heavy and limp, her entire body sagging exhausted as the world went dark.

--oo0oo—

Grissom sat glaring at the clock. It marked how long Catherine and Warrick had been missing. It marked how long they'd been searching, finding clues, even answers, but they weren't finding Catherine or Warrick. They knew who had them, they knew about the drugs, they knew Lindsey was missing, they knew that they were using Lionel Ricks vehicle; they just didn't know where they were. They had all kinds of alerts out for them and still no one had seen them. It was infuriating. This was his first break since they'd last convened and this was the third day they'd been searching. He gulped the last of his super caffeinate, highly sugared coffee, the only thing keeping him moving at the moment, and rose from his chair wearily. He'd only been there for fifteen minutes, but to him it was fifteen minutes too long. Before he left though to go over Lionel Ricks' apartment again still feeling as if he was missing something, he wanted to go check on Nicky.

Approaching the door to Greg's lab he was met with the sound of violent retching. He paused for a few minutes just out of sight so as to not add a visual. After the audible heaves subsided a good time later he stepped just until he could see them but neither of them noticed him and he was content with that. Greg had apparently had someone bring in the small sofa from the break room that had Nick curled into a tight ball, a large blanket tugged tightly around himself, dark circles under his horribly bloodshot eyes, a white ring around his mouth, and a sickly, pasty, pallor to his skin. He could be see shivering violently from a distance and would groan almost every other breath, staring ahead vacantly. His whole body ached like he could never believe. Greg was hovering over him like the mother hen no one knew he could be, rubbing his back gently which seemed to provide a little relief while trying to coax Nicky to drink a little water.

"C'mon Nicky, just a little, it'll help, get the bad flavor out of your mouth."

"Nnnnnnooo…" Nick moaned shifted his head away from the water bottle, wrapping his arms tighter around his stomach.

"Oh come on Nick, it won't kill you, I promise, just a little sip and I'll leave you alone." Nick could only moan again for the sledgehammers pounding his skull mercilessly, the roaring in his ears and the roiling in his stomach.

"I guess I'll try again later." Nick moaned again. Gil shook his head and left them in peace, or as close as they could get right now. He had to look through Lionel Ricks' home, something was niggling at him about it he just didn't know what. He looked around slowly, it looked so spotless, so cleaned up. They'd done a good job going through here, so what was it that they'd missed? What had _he_ missed? He flashed the light along walls, something was…_off._

He screwed on the plastic orange screen and went over the walls again. He paused suddenly in the living room as something reflected in the light. Standing on a stool and cautiously scraped the section of wall until the object slipped into his gloved palm. _Hmmmmmm…._This little device looked suspiciously electronic, perhaps video feed. _Time to get Archie I think. _Now that he knew what he was looking for Gil found many more cameras, at least that's what he assumed they were, deftly placed upon the walls. _Did Lionel Ricks know about these?_ It was an interesting question. Why would he knowingly record his every action in his home?

--oo0oo—

Nick was in the most misery he'd ever experienced. His head had exploded many times already and the pieces still hurt unbearably and were exploding into smaller pieces. The world was a blur around him, swirling dizzily, the nausea unabated, his stomach emptied long before now. He felt so bad, he couldn't see the light at the end of the tunnel. Greg would circle every now and then trying to get him to drink something but even the _thought_ of drinking even water made his stomach clench painfully into knots. He just needed something, _anything_ to make the misery go away.

"G-Greg…please….I just need….a little." He stuttered weakly. It seemed like he was constantly suffocating.

"No Nicky. I'm not giving you any kind of drug." Greg muttered emotionlessly. He couldn't let his anger show through to him. He wasn't angry at Nick, he was angry at Nick's misery. Angry that only time could help him.

"P-please…hurts…so bad…just need…a little…to…make…it…go away…Please." Nick begged, curling in on himself as another agonizing shot of pain ravaged through him. His entire body hurt like he could never believe. He only wanted a little…he _needed _it, why couldn't Greg see that he was going to die without it?

"No Nicky, you don't need the drugs. I know it hurts, but it'll only get worse if I give you more." Greg muttered miserably. Nicky only groaned in his agony. That drawer was the worst accident he'd ever had in his life. He just needed a little sniff of something, a pill, injection even, anything to make this agony go away. He was so close to death he could barely hold back the tears.

"P-please…killing…me…please…why do you…want…to kill me.." Greg sighed and went back over to Nick.

"We're not trying to kill you Nick. I know it feels like it, but once you get through this you'll feel _good_ again. You just gotta tough it out for a little longer…okay?" Nick gulped back the tears his misery threatened to shed and nodded weakly. Greg noticed the violent shivers racking through his body, still.

"You cold Nicky?" he pressed the back of his hand against Nick's forehead. Definitely cold.

"Uh huh…" he mumbled tiredly.

"Sit up, I'm coming in." Greg declared lifting the blanket and Nick so that they were both under the blanket and Nick's back was pressed against his chest. He gasped instantly.

"What?" Nick slurred.

"When you get cold, you get _cold_." Nick grinned weakly.

"Haha." He muttered. They stayed that way for a long time, Nick barely warming up as each hour passed, and Greg finding himself miserably cold. At some point Hodges came by, grinning like a sneaky snake. Greg didn't give him a chance, catching him with his mouth already open.

"You say one word, _any_ word, and I _swear_, I will sew those loud lips of yours closed with the _fattest_ bone needle I can get, and I will get one." Hodges blanched terribly, if that were possible with his amazingly pasty complexion, and snapped his mouth shut silently. He stared for a moment longer before slinking away in fear. Greg grinned triumphantly as Archie sauntered in the lab laughing.

"I see you've been victorious fellow lab rat Greg." He chanted.

"Oh yes, I didn't feel like Hodges and all that comes with him today."

"When does _anyone_ feel like enduring the Hodges package?" Greg laughed.

"Good point."

"So how's Nick doing."

"Cold as an ice cube, and that's improved. Sure as shootin that we're trying to kill him he's so miserable."

"Man, that's just wrong. How much longer does he have to go through this?"

"I don't know, by the way things are still going, I'd say another day or two, though probably not as bad as it is now."

"Bummer. Well, I'm going to be swamped soon, Gil found something for me to work on, but he won't be here yet, do you need anything?"

"Ummmm…I could use some food but I don't want to eat in front of Nick."

"Mmmmm…food, hungry, queasy…"Nick mumbled half asleep. Greg quirked an eyebrow at Archie.

"Alright Nick, what food sounds good?" _Does anything sound edible to you?_

"Mexicana…" he giggled tiredly.

"Alright, Mexican it is Nicky." Archie declared grabbing his car keys.

"I trust you to get me something good Arch…and lots of it too!" Greg insisted.

"Alright, alright!" Greg sighed tiredly his stomach growling hungrily. He shifted carefully out from under Nick, laying him back down on the couch, having warmed up considerably, and tucked the blanket under. He had to get back to work. Glancing at the clock his heart sank as the third day ended, and the fourth day began.

**A/N: Well? What did you think? Pleeeease!! I'm desperate for those reviews!**


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Catherine looked around the room quietly. Eddie and Shorty had left a while ago. How long she didn't know, but it didn't feel like very long. Nervously she wandered, looking about the bare room for anything useful. There was no phone, no window, no gun or anything else that could be used as a weapon. She couldn't be more grateful that her two captors were very short on intelligence at the moment. _Or were they always this stupid?_ She had been left both conscious and unrestrained when they left. This was probably their only chance to escape. Not wanting to get her hopes up too much she tried the doorknob, heart leaping that it was unlocked. _Finally, our freedom, may Warrick survive long enough to get to a hospital._ She prayed silently to herself.

"Warrick, Warrick. Please wake up, we have to get out of here." She whispered rapidly, patting his cheek gently. He only groaned, head lolling away from the touch. Catherine felt a now familiar thrill of fear shoot through her. He felt so cold.

"Warrick, you have to wake up _now_. Please sweetie, don't die on me. You have to get up. It's our only chance." Catherine struggled to sit him up, draping one of his heavy arms around her shoulders, and painfully, using _both_ hands, lifted him off the ground. His limp body weighed her down, making every, tiny step, the hardest steps she'd ever taken. There were moments when she didn't think she'd make it. It was thirty steps to the door, she'd counted, and after what was probably ten minutes, she'd taken ten. She gritted her teeth, biting back the pain in her body and took another step. She had no idea when Eddie and Shorty would get back, but she did know that they had to be gone before they came back.

20 steps…_Almost there Catherine, just keep going._

Warrick groaned his body stiffening against her slightly, pain etched across his face even in unconsciousness. Catherine was sure the world could hear her beating heart as she took another step. They had to make it. _Warrick_ had to make it. She couldn't imagine her life without him. Gulping back her pains and frustration she took another step. Her heart leapt when Warrick moaned. She was grateful and terrified at the same time. Overjoyed at the sign he was still alive, but terrified someone might hear and they wouldn't escape. In a hotel like this, she wouldn't expect any help, they'd just have to get somewhere else to call for help.

25 steps…_Only five more Catherine, you can do this!_

She growled in frustration at herself. Why couldn't she move faster? Speed was the key here and slugs would be passing her up if there was one present. Her wrist screamed at her in pain as she was forced to use it or drop Warrick. That was out of the question. Her head pounded. She felt so tired. Everything hurt, her heart racing, she just needed to sit and rest for a bit. _No! Don't rest Catherine! You have to keep moving! Warrick's life depends on it! He'll die if you don't keep moving!_

28 steps…_I can almost reach the door, don't stop!_

Abruptly the doorknob turned, the door whipping open, smashing into Catherine's forehead, knocking them both backwards. Warrick cried out as he hit the ground. The world spun around her crazily, the two figures entering the room momentarily going unnoticed by Catherine. That was until they started screaming at her. The words were unintelligible in there rage as they dragged her deeper into the room again by her hair, Warrick receiving similar treatment, though he was too weak to resist them. Catherine couldn't breathe as one of them, she couldn't see which, slammed a knee into her stomach again and again, the pain radiating like fire. She screamed when the massive foot slammed down onto her broken wrist. Time no longer had meaning the world swirling away from her into oblivion.

The next time Catherine opened her eyes, her world was absolute pain. The world spun for a moment as she opened her eyes, the world was fuzzy and with little definition. She swallowed back a fierce wave of nausea and looked at the new situation. She was pressed against the side of the bed, her hands duct-taped thoroughly around the post of the bed. She strained against the tape but knew instantly that there was no overcoming the bonds. Taking another deep breath hoping to ease a bit of the pain she looked across the room. Warrick lay on his back, tied to the pipes with a cruelly thin wire, his hands forced to take on most of his weight as the pipe was too high for him to lay down and his back touch the floor but hovered a few inches above. He was unconscious and bleeding, _heavily._ He would be dead in minutes if she didn't stop the bleeding, but she couldn't reach him. Across the room she could see Eddie, leaning against the wall, nursing his barely bleeding knuckles.

"Eddie! Eddie please you have to listen to me!"

"I thought I told you to shut up!" he snarled dangerously.

"Please, just listen! Warrick, he's still bleeding. You have to stop it or he'll die!"

"So?" Catherine thought quickly, which with her pounding head, wasn't easy.

"Listen, you need money. You want to use Warrick for harvests, skin, organs, blood, heck, if you did it right you could keep him around for a long time. Everyone needs blood and skin will always grow back, hair too, but if he's dead you won't get anything, not even the organs. If you don't stop the bleeding, he's dead and just another body that you have to hide and if it's found, will lead straight to you." Catherine wanted to gag at what she was saying, but it would buy Warrick time, if he listened. Eddie thought for a moment. She was right, if they could keep him alive long enough, they _could_ earn a lot of money.

"So what do you want me to do? I can't just walk into a store and buy all the bandages it would take to patch him up. Someone would get suspicious. I'm a wanted man, everyone is looking for me 'n Shorty." Catherine had to think quickly. What could be used to stop the bleeding without drawing attention? If she didn't figure it out soon it wouldn't matter that Eddie was actually considering.

"Salt."

"What?"

"Buy salt, lot's of it. Get one of those one pound bags."

"What good'll salt do? I don't want to eat him." Another day, another person, _any_ other circumstance, Catherine might have laughed, but not today.

"You idiot! I know you are too stupid to understand, but salt is excellent for forming blood clots! In idiot terms that _might_ be small enough for _you_, it'll make Warrick stop bleeding, and he _might_ live a little longer!" Catherine breathed heavily not caring that she shouldn't have yelled and that she may have ruined Warrick's chance, but Eddie's greed for money outweighed his anger at this moment. She didn't however get away with her sharp retorted completely. Eddie backhanded her hard making the room spin before double checking that both Warrick and herself couldn't break free and stalked out of the room. She was very grateful that he wasn't gone long, dropping a big bag of salt next to Warrick.

"You make one wrong move and I shoot you. You don't have to be in perfect condition to make me money." He snarled, cutting her hands free. She scooted cautiously over to Warrick again, making sure she didn't move too quickly. Eddie was on edge again. She moved the bag out of her way for a moment to examine Warrick. Gently she lifted his head, which hung backwards painfully, his long locks of hair just barely touching the floor. She brushed the strands plastered to his face away. He sweated profusely.

"Oh Warrick, you're burning up…" she whispered her eyes falling on the gun shot wounds. They were inflamed and a glaring red with the beginning of blue streaks snaking towards his heart, blending into the bruises. Catherine blinked back the tears stinging the corners of her eyes.

"Stop gawking and get to work!" Eddie snapped. Catherine nodded obediently and opened the bag of salt carefully. Suddenly she realized with abject horror, Warrick was looking blearily at her. She didn't want him to be awake for this.

"C-C-Cath…whaaaa?" He tried to move but his entire body screamed before he even achieved the smallest of movements. He cried out faintly his head lolling forward. Everything hurt so badly.

"Oh Warrick, I'm so sorry, but I have to do this."

"Whaaaa?" he blinked sluggishly barely aware.

"I have to do this Warrick, it's going to hurt, a lot, but you'll still be alive." Catherine wasn't sure whether he understood her or not, but she continued anyways gathering a handful of salt. Holding her breath she poured the salt over one of the gun shot wounds. Warrick _screamed_ his back arching off the ground sharply, agony ripping through him like he'd never though possible. His mind was blinded with pain, oblivion threatening to overwhelm him. He could barely breathe. He couldn't stop shaking. Everything was a blur of confusion pain and fear.

Catherine sobbed as she scooped another handful of salt, pressing it into the same wound, the first handful already soaked through with blood, slowly hardening, forming an artificial scab as it clotted quickly. She hadn't expected any less then how Warrick reacted, salt in the wound was often described as one of the worst kinds of pain, but it still shattered her heart to be the cause of such pain. With trembling hands she piled the salt onto every open wound until they were grainy white caps, no longer glaring red open wounds. She could barely see through the blur of hot tears, her attention drawn to his wrists, seeping little tendrils of blood down his arms as he hung by his full weight, the thin wire cutting deeply. She rubbed salt onto them but it did little good with the wire still in place, but, perhaps, it might help some.

"Alright, that's enough. He ain't bleedin no more. Time to go." Catherine snapped back to the world around her, already dragged halfway to the door by Eddie.

"No! No! We can't! We can't just leave Warrick! No! NO! He'll die!" Eddie cuffed her hard across the cheek.

"This _isn't _a choice. Besides, Shorty'll take _good_ care of your man." He sneered at her. Catherine stumbled along side him too dizzy to resist. She felt so tired. She gasped when the broke through the front doors, blinded by the bright sun. She numbly tried to drag her feet, slow him down, something, anything, but he easily overcame her feeble resistance.

"Wait, Eddie, where are we going? Eddie?" He grinned maliciously.

"We're on our way…to put you on the market…"

--oo0oo—

Grissom leaned in a little closer looking for anything he might have missed. He'd been right that the small electronics were video recorders, unfortunately there was no sound. Time ticked by quickly it seemed when suddenly Nick stumbled into the room looking like death warmed over.

"I'm ready to work again." He rasped out his voice immensely hoarse. Gil quirked an eyebrow at him then looked at Greg who entered right after Nick.

"How's he doing Greg?" Nick looked thoroughly miffed that Gil didn't trust him enough to just give him work.

"Completely coherent, slept solidly for eight hours straight, ate twice and kept it all down, definitely hydrated again."

"How do you feel Nicky?" Nick huffed in frustration.

"I'm fine."

"The truth?" Gil pushed.

"Alright, I'm still a bit tired and have a splitting headache, but it won't be a problem, I can still work, I promise…please."

"Can you walk a straight line? See clearly, hear clearly, and think clearly?"

"Yes to all." Grissom thought for a moment longer. He may _look_ horrible, but he certainly acted functional again.

"Alright, get yourself cleared and I'll have plenty of work for you." Nick left at a quick trudge. He had down-played how tired he really was quite a bit, and his whole body hurt, but he really did think he could handle work. He _had_ to be able to work. He had to be useful. He was so mad at himself for getting high while Catherine and Warrick were kidnapped and probably being hurt. He could never forgive himself for taking himself out of the game this long. He'd been so _stupid_ it had been a rookie mistake. If he'd been wearing a face mask like he should have been, he wouldn't have inhaled the drugs. The only thing that made him feel better was that he was one blood test away from being useful again. He _had_ to find Catherine and Warrick. Time was running out as midday of day four passed them by.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

_"What are we gonna do?"_

_"I dunno Shorty, we gotta do something. They'll kill us if we don't."_

_"You never should have lost that last shipment. It was too big to just drop! Now we're dead because of you!" Eddie paced about the room cradling his head in a clear panic._

_"It wasn't my fault!"_

_"No you just sentenced us both to death by dropping the shipment! That was the biggest shipment we've gotten in years!" the two orbited the room rapidly both looking terrified for a long while. _

_"We'll just have to earn the money some other way. How much do we owe?"_

_"$200,000" Eddie dropped to his knees in shock._ Eddie said something but even leaning in Grissom couldn't see what.

_"Do you really think she'll give us money? She's your ex after all." _

_"If not we can still make money off of her." _Eddie stood and switched rooms, Grissom turning to the next television screen.

_"The brat too. We can sell em both and make some money. Maybe, if the market is good enough, that's all we'll have to do."Eddie looked incredulously at Shorty._

_"Do you really think they would be stupid enough to buy them both for $100 grand each. They are worth half that!" They turned to look at Lindsey, huddled and trembling in a corner of the room. _Grissom's fist tightened snapping his pencil in half as he noted each and every bruise on her body.

_"We'll get what we can and go from there…_" Grissom was breathing hard, unable to tame his anger. He stood up swiftly, the chair knocking over from his force, and he stormed to the break room where Greg, and his coffee, resided. Greg stared at him as he dumped out his cold coffee and filled it with fresh and down the cup in three gulps. He did this twice more before slamming the cup onto the counter.

"Griss…" Greg started audibly fearful, "are you okay?" he inched closer slowly grabbing the coffee pot from him as he was about to pour another cup, and slowly, as if Gil were a dangerous animal about to maul him, and replaced the coffee pot with a water bottle. Gil stared at him for a moment and Greg was sure he was about to die. Then Grissom sighed.

"No, I'm not okay. I just finished watching the tapes again. I think I've got everything of their conversations I'm going to get."

"Grissom is that all you've been doing for the past," Greg checked the clock, "eight hours? Did you take a break at all?"

"No, there's no time for breaks, we've taken too much time as it is."

"What did you find out with the tapes?" Gil ran a hand through his grimy hair tiredly. _No time to change the oil._

"Eddie and this 'Shorty' guy are selling Catherine and Lindsey on the market." Greg exhaled sharply, almost sounding like a growl.

"I don't get it. How can people do this to each other? It doesn't make sense."

"No Greg, it doesn't. No matter how I try, I can't understand why people value money over life." They stood, leaning against the counter, sipping their drinks for a few minutes in silence. No matter how many answers they found, they couldn't find Catherine, Lindsey, and Warrick. They were lost.

--oo0oo—

Everything was dark and stuffy. She didn't know how long she'd been in this trunk. _This definitely isn't the same car we arrived in. _She thought sluggishly. She tried to keep her body as still as possible amidst the movements of the car. It was so hot in here. Catherine swallowed painfully. Her throat was so dry. _When was the last I had a drink?_ She couldn't find an answer. She didn't even know how much time had passed. Days? Hours? Weeks? She just didn't know. She tried to breathe slowly and shallowly. She was running out of air already. The air was getting thin. It was so hard to breathe now. So hot, so tired, her head throbbed unmercifully like jackhammers cracking open her head. Slowly she drifted into sleep never sensing the passage of time. The next she opened her eyes to total darkness, not enough air, and far more pain. Everything wobbled around her. _Still in the trunk…_she thought dismally. They were still traveling. Catherine tried to take a deep breath. _Too thin too thin, the air, I need more air._ She tried to move, tried to breathe, but she couldn't as she drifted into unconsciousness and did not wake again.

--oo0oo—

Warrick languished in agony. Nothing made sense. It was all a blur to him. He couldn't stop shaking. He was so hot, and yet so cold. Everything was confusion. He could feel his teeth chattering, but could only hear a dull roar in his ears. He tried to move but such pain coursed through him, such exhaustion, he couldn't move. He tried to swallow but his throat scratched like sandpaper, his muscles begin to spasm every time he tried. He blinked sluggishly trying to see but the world would not come to clarity. The oblivion took him again. When he woke again he felt so exhausted. He hurt even to breathe. He jerked suddenly away from the big blurry figure that materialized before him out of nothing. _Is it a person? Who is it?_ He strained to hear the confused words spoken to him.

"So, it's…you and me…what should….with our time together…" Warrick blinked at the figure but nothing became clearer.

"Whaaaa?" the stranger laughed.

"You…pathetic…aren't you?" a tremor coursed through Warrick again, pain shooting through his every fiber eliciting a moan. The stranger said something but he didn't hear as drifted unconscious. The next time he opened his eyes it was to a wall of grey. Very little varied, small patches of a darker grey but nothing more was seen. Suddenly his side exploded into agony as something slammed into him.

"Stop….stupid….waste…air….no….moaning…" Warrick's sluggish mind was sure someone was playing with the mute button as something slammed him again and again. The world melted away.

Everything was thick and muddled, like too thick pea soup. He couldn't quite form a thought in his mind. It was all just a vague awareness.

Hot.

Cold.

Pain.

Tired.

Scared.

It was a blur of confusion. Physical sensation was his only connection to reality. The hurt was his constant companion. Someone grabbed his hair, jerking his head up. Warrick didn't register the weak groan as his own.

"Not…too hot…die…hope so….soon….good…..body part…" the broken words had no meaning to Warrick, no context nor understanding. He just wanted to go home. Go to Catherine. Where was Catherine? Something solid was pressed against his lips and a agonizing cold liquid poured into his mouth forcing him to swallow. The liquid burned like fire down his throat and stabbed like icy daggers in his stomach. He coughed violently anguish ripping through him, shredding his chest to pieces with every cough. Darkness took him….

Something was wrong. There was a new sensation. A bad sensation. Every time he breathed in it felt like his chest rattled, and every time he exhaled he could _feel_ the gurgle. It made him feel sick, like he couldn't breathe. A small seed of panic began to blossom and overwhelm him. _Can't breathe….can't breathe…._he tried to squirm but he was so tired, he couldn't move.

"What….something…wrong…Mr. Warrick…don't….last….good…body….parts…" Warrick's brow furrowed in confusion. Why wouldn't anything make sense? He exhaled shortly, hating the feeling in his chest it caused.

"Unnnnngh…wwww…"

"Huh…say something…gotta….I'm….parts….make…rich…" Warrick rested his head more heavily against his arm and let the darkness take him. He was so tired, why bother resisting?

--oo0oo—

They sat around the table glumly, each armed with a cup of coffee, which number of cup they were on they didn't know, all they did know was they'd run down all the leads, everything, and they couldn't find their friends. They had nothing left they could do now. The room was utterly silent.

"What do we do now?" Nick asked dejectedly.

"I don't know Nick!" Gil snapped. Nick looked down at his cup morosely looking as if he'd been smacked for stupidity, blushing brightly with shame. He didn't speak up again and kept his eyes down from then on. They would all glance at the clock, quite often in unison, but occasionally on their own. Greg noticed discretely that Nick was slowly getting redder and more ashamed looking, like a kicked puppy. Sara was the next brave and foolish person to speak up.

"Gil…we…we need to do something…we need to find them…" Grissom snapped.

"Don't you think I know that?! What do you suggest we do?! What leads are left un-followed?! How could you all be so stupid?!" The three stared in shock for a second as he slammed the mug on the table hard enough to crack the thick glass and stormed from the room. Greg jumped up following full tilt.

"Grissom! Grissom! Gil STOP!" to his surprise the man stopped dead in his tracks and whipped around still in a rage.

"What do you want Sanders?!" he bellowed.

"How dare you! What right do you have to be a total jerk! We are _all_ scared and lost and confused! We _all_ want to find them, and just because you are the boss _doesn't_ give you the right to treat everyone like ignoramuses and incompetents!"

"You're on thin ice Sanders!" Gil snarled

"I don't care! Nick and Sara had perfectly legitimate questions! We aren't going to find them if we don't _do_ anything! I don't know about you but after half an hour of staring at it, I _certainly_ didn't find them in my coffee cup! What about yours? Or was it about as empty as your head is right now! If you can't keep your emotions in check then step aside and let someone who _can_ do the job and find Cath and Warrick, and Lindsey!" Greg and Gil glared vehemently, neither backing down. People stood gawking in the halls, Nick and Sara especially speechless a few feet away from the two. The minutes passed in a tense silence until Brass arrived briskly.

"We've got a lead. Someone called in Lionel's truck parked outside a cheap hotel. They might still be there." He announced to the room. Gil never had a chance to respond.

"Nick you take it. Gil can't be trusted with anything of importance right now." Nick followed Brass silently, ignoring the constant confused looks being shot at him. Greg continued to block Grissom's path until the two turned a corner. He and Gil exchanged one last venomous glare before stalking away.

--oo0oo—

Shorty languished in the beginnings of withdraw from his drugs. They'd worn off about an hour ago. The headache was just starting to get bad. This guy, this Warrick, all his moaning and groaning wasn't helping either, despite how faint his voice sounded. He'd been going on like that for over an hour now and it was really beginning to grate the nerves. He'd kicked him once already, right on the kidneys too, _that_ shut him up for a time, but only a short time. This guy would never know how _much_ money they were going to make off of him. They'd already auctioned off the most valuable organs, there were several promising bids for skin grafts, his hair was cheap but it would get them another dose of drugs, his blood would probably give them a month's worth. They'd be able to pay off the debt and have enough to get them by for about a year. He'd never seen that much money in his life. Shorty smiled dopily as the phone rang.

"What? No he's not so good. Burning up…high fever…I don't _know_ how high…." Warrick coughed violently again. This was something that was becoming a constant of the last hour, rivulets of blood seeping from his mouth, "Nah, I don't think he'll last more than a day…Yes sir, I'll harvest everything….Yes sir, I'll start…right now…."

**A/N: Well There ya go...know it's been awhile...got stuck...hope you enjoy!**


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

Nick sat uncomfortably in the car. He couldn't sit still. Warrick and Catherine and Lindsey might be here. This could all be over soon. He could taste the excitement and hope on his tongue. This had to end. Things couldn't keep going on the slippery slope they had been this past week. It was tearing the team _and_ their friendships apart under the strain. It had certainly begun already. But now, now that he was going to find them or at least bring in new clues, he'd redeem himself. _I'll prove it to him…I'm not stupid…_20 minutes to go….

--oo0oo—

Shorty grunted as he gave a heave, the mattress falling off the bed with a thunk. This hotel, even the room, hadn't been a random choice. This place was their base of operations…_literally_…he thought with a grin. This was where they made the drugs, selling them in back of the hotel. But business was bad. Eddie was too addicted to his drugs. He could never get through a day without shooting up at least four times. He sometimes wondered how he never overdosed. He always managed to take a months budget and spend it all in two weeks in drugs that lasted only those two weeks.

They'd had to start a side business because of it. After all, there was a shortage of organ donors and there were plenty of un-wanteds and homeless people. No one noticed or cared that they disappeared. It certainly earned enough that Eddie could have his drugs and they'd still have food to eat and be able to pay their rent. He rotated the boards on their hinges and knocked out a removable wedge at the foot and now what had once been the simple wood bed was now the perfect operation table in the shape of a stick figure. Pulling out his knife, Shorty turned to Warrick.

--oo0oo—

Nick couldn't keep from bouncing. He was excited, nervous, scared. It could all end right now. He could find his friends at this hotel. They could be alive. They could be dead. He couldn't keep his mind from bouncing between the best and worst scenarios. They could find any number of things at this hotel. _Too much rests on what I find…Grissom is wrong…I'm not stupid…I'll prove it to him…_he couldn't keep the scattered thoughts from his mind, he had to focus, but that wouldn't come until he held his gun in hand, kicking down the door, finding his friends together, unharmed. He held the false hope image in his head. It gave him hope. He knew already that Warrick was seriously injured, but he still clung to the image. It kept him from losing control.

"Drive faster." He snapped to Brass who obliged, slightly. They were already going dangerously fast. 16 minutes to go….

--oo0oo—

Shorty sliced through the thin wire, ignoring Warrick's grunt of pain as he cut the back of his hand along with the wire. He dropped to the floor with a thud. It was like lifting an elephant trying to lift him off the floor. There was a reason he got his nickname Shorty, and this guy was a giant compared to him. Being limp as a wet noodle didn't help any. He was sweating from the effort and the guy's fevered body by the time he dumped him onto the hard wood table. From there it was easy to manipulate him into position, his arms straight out from his body, his legs slightly apart, the wedge missing so that they could be tied down. Humming to himself Shorty found his coil of wire again and strapped down Warrick's bleeding wrists and now his ankles as well, with a layer of duct-tape over them to top it off. Next he grabbed a filthy rag and tied it around Warrick's head, gagging him tightly, thankfully stifling another annoying moan. He finished up by securing a wire around Warrick's forehead tying it off on small eye hooks on each side adding a layer of duct-tape there and around his shoulder crossing it over and under his arms to form a small 'x' across his chest. One thing he'd learned was that no matter their condition, if they weren't tied down securely they could move and risk damage to the parts being harvested. That was a good way to lose a lot of money.

--oo0oo—

Nick could feel the impatience beginning to boil over. _Can't this rust bucket go any faster?_ It was taking too long. They had to get to that hotel _now._ He couldn't get this cold dread out of his chest. Something was definitely wrong, but he couldn't know what until they actually got there. This sense of dread was so strong it actually hurt. He didn't notice himself gripping his gun eagerly, his grip tightening as each second ticked by. He found his mind consumed with images of what he would do to these bastards once he got a hold of them.

"Stokes, let go of that gun before you shoot your pants off." Brass stated coolly watching Nick squirmed anxiously in the seat. 10 minutes to go….

--oo0oo—

Warrick was ready to go. Shorty only had one or two things to do before he could begin. He set out all the Igloo lunch boxes with packs of ice filing them, nearly to the top for storage and shipping. He pulled out his various instruments he would use for the extractions. Shorty took a deep breath and thought for a moment. _Oh yes, that's what I'm forgetting._ Humming to himself again he fastened the rubber tourniquet taut around his arm, the vein popping upward quickly. With steady, practiced speed he filled the syringe completely, his maximum dose, and shot up, ecstasy enveloping him instantly.

--oo0oo—

Screeching tires pierced the sky, burnt rubber filled the air, swilling with smoke. A deafening crash shattered what was once silent. The world spun in a whirlpool, colors blending to rainbows of confusion. Nick gripped the door and dashboard for dear life as everything fell away to chaos. Brass commanded the steering wheel with white knuckles and a blanch face, desperately trying to control the vehicle. His heart skipped a beat as he saw Nick slam against the window a loud crack. The world abruptly tumbled end over end and stopped. Brass held his breath in shock for a moment. Seeing Nick suddenly drop from the seat he'd hung upside down from with an 'oof' brought him back to reality and he copied, clicking his seat belt falling with a thwump.

Nick stumbled to his feet leaning against the over-turned vehicle for a moment, slightly dizzy, his legs wobbly beneath him. He gulped back a small wave of nausea and looked around. Brass appeared to be fine, slightly shaken like himself, but nothing serious. Then Nick saw the road ahead. They had ended up on the outskirts of at least a ten car pile-up. They would have missed it entirely if it hadn't been for a single car spinning out of control right into them. His heart froze with horror. The street was completely blocked. There was no way a vehicle any bigger than a motorcycle could get through this mess.

"What are we going to do?" Nick shouted over the ruckus of the other people.

"I don't know!" Brass shouted back. Not long after their back-up came screeching to a similar, but more successful halt, got out, and looked to Brass and Nick for directions. Suddenly a sound of sirens met Nick's ears and he looked to the other side of the pile up, there two police cruisers skid to a stop.

"C'mon! I've got an idea." He bolted to the other side of the accident, approaching the officer just jumping out of his vehicle, the others close behind.

"Nick Stokes, Crime lab, we're on our way to a kidnapping rescue, we need your car, we'll bring it back later…" and with that he snatched the keys from the officer not waiting for an answer and they were off again. 7 minutes to go…

--oo0oo—

Anguish, agony, he couldn't get past that level as something cut into him. He couldn't breathe, couldn't move, and couldn't see. Everything was muddled and confusing. So hot. So cold. He couldn't move and yet he couldn't stop shaking. He just want to sleep. He wanted to go home. To feel safe again. Pain free again. But it wouldn't happen, he could feel it. This was his final hours? Minutes? Of life. _That's why Cath left…I was too weak…needs someone strong…not good enough…dead anyways…_

Shorty made another slice. The stupid knife was dull. After this he'd have money to sharpen it or get a new one. It took about three slices to get through his skin completely. He wedged his home made expander into the slit and slowly cranked it until all that was in his path to the delicate organ was pushed aside. Warrick moaned weakly a tremor coursing through his body.

"Oh shut up." Shorty snapped hitting him hard on the jaw with the butt of the knife. "Now, let's get started on those skin grafts shall we?"

--oo0oo—

Nick's head was pounding and he could faintly feel a rivulet of blood trailing down the side of his face, but he didn't care, he could _see_ the hotel. A second later he could see Lionel's car. They screeched to another stop, the sirens off for silent approach, and piled out of the car, guns ready. The other officers had a hard time keeping up with Nick, even if he _was_ weaving back and forth a little bit unsteady on his feet. He was so close, he wouldn't stop until this was over. He bounded up the stairs silently, breathing slightly harder than normal. Was it adrenaline? Or something more? He didn't care. All he saw was the fast approaching hotel room. He didn't even remember stopping at the front desk and squeezing the information from the manager, the world was such a blur, but he had. Brass tried the doorknob silently. Unlocked. He and Nick shared a grin for a single second only before bursting loudly into the room. Warrick was on the frame of a bed, a small man leaning over him, grinning like the maniac he was, with a knife. He whirled away the incision going askew severely, though there was nowhere to go. Brass and the officers quickly had him subdued, while Nick went to Warrick, everything else melting away.

His eyes were glazed over thickly consumed with fear, hot tears streaming out of the corners of his eyes blending in with the copious beads of sweat rolling down his body. He trembled as much as the restrains and physical weakness would allow, moaning weakly through the vile gag.

"Call an ambulance!" Nick whipped out his pocket knife sawing at the tape on Warrick's wrist, peeling it away only to find the wire. He severed each side but left it in his wrist. Nick was afraid of getting Warrick bleeding again. Better to let the paramedics do those. He discovered the other wrist, ankles, and even forehead to be tied in the same fashion, wire and tape. Only his chest was left with just tape. Nick was glad to see that there were no open wounds on his chest. The restraints now gone Nick shifted next to Warrick's head. Gently he lifted it and slid a hand down, over a goose egg accidentally, to the knot of the gag and slowly began to loosen it until it was undone and removed the gag completely. Warrick showed no awareness of anything, except pain. He barely seemed to be hanging onto consciousness.

"Nick?" Brass prodded. Nick gulped down the lump in his throat.

"Not good, he's burning up. Where's the ambulance?"

"On its way, just keep him with us until they get here." He nodded not looking up as they dragged Shorty away.

"NO! NO YOU CAN'T DO THIS! THEY'RE BOUGHT AND PAID FOR! YOU CAN'T DO THIS! THEY'RE BOUGHT ALREADY! NOOOOO!" Warrick flinched violently. Nick wasn't sure what it was from though.

"Shhh…it's okay Warrick, just hold on, we got ya." Nick held a hand firmly across the thin cut on Warrick's forehead and the other on an incision where the cruel contraptions had once held the slices open. He didn't need to do anymore bleeding. Luckily, the gunshot wounds had a tenuous scab over them, so for now, they did not bleed.

"Uuuunnngh…" Warrick squirmed suddenly trying to lift his head. It weaved in the air for a second before collapsing back to the wood.

"Easy Warrick, just hang on, you're gonna be okay. Just stay still." Nick could feel Warrick's body going completely slack his eyes slowly rolling back his eyelids sinking to mere slits. His chest heaved rapidly for each small breath, pulse way too fast and fading fast. Nick didn't like the sound of his breathe, not at all.

"Warrick, stay with me…you can do this, just keep breathing…stay with me…" Warrick shuddered, his eyes opening slightly wider but gave no other response. Abruptly Warrick's whole body jerked and lurched as he coughed violently, a mist of blood spraying the air continuously. Nick tried to hold him as still as possible, keeping an eye on the thin scabs, praying, that they held fast. _Finally_, the paramedics were here, shoving him out of their way. He didn't mind, Warrick needed their help. The coughs had stopped, for now, and he lay limp, barely hanging in there.

What seemed like seconds later he was on a gurney and Nick was chasing after and jumping into the ambulance. Warrick lolled in a drifting world, an IV fully open in his arm, wearing an oxygen mask and a tube from each lung draining the blood from his lungs. Nick talked to him the whole way, desperately trying to keep him conscious, holding him still when he coughed in fits, and once, in a moment where he was close to clarity, calming his panic. They arrived at the hospital and Warrick was rushed through the double doors, Nick left behind with a nurse eyeing the gash on his forehead.

"Are you alright young man?"

"Yeah, yeah….rough night."


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

Greg ran to the lab restroom, slamming the door shut and locking it. He hyperventilated in panic, trembling. He couldn't breathe. _Why did I do that? Why did I do that? I'm gonna die I'm gonna die I'm gonna die! He'll kill me! _He leaned against the wall, his knees giving out to land hard on his rump. He sat for a time just trying to breathe normally, his mind spinning with the thoughts of his upcoming death when suddenly his stomach turned. He dove into the nearest stall his panic attaining physical form. He didn't know how long he heaved, but he felt shaky and tired once he was finished.

"Still hiding are we?" Greg jumped. _How did he get in here?_ "I grabbed the key from the janitor. You've been in here nearly an hour. People gotta go Greggo." Archie laughed at his shocked expression.

"So sorry, just having a panic attack." Archie grinned.

"Took on the big boss man eh? So what's next? Running night shift?"

"Ha ha, very funny." Archie stood holding out a hand to help Greg up.

"Well, c'mon, whatever happens happens. Either way, you were right." Greg smiled.

"Thanks Arch" Greg's cell phone ring echoed off the walls. Archie stared at him as a giant grin broke, faltered then morphed into a frown and hung up.

"What was that?"

"Brass. They found Warrick. He's in bad shape. I'm headed to meet Nick at the hospital." Archie nodded.

"Alright…I'll go with you." Greg agreed. He didn't say it, but he was grateful for the support.

--oo0oo—

Nick sat heavily in the chair, doubled over, elbows on knees, staring at his hands vacantly. His head throbbed unmercifully, he felt so tired, bone-weary, but he didn't care. It was nothing compared to what Warrick was going through. _Will he live through this? I pray to the almighty powers that he does._ Nick never noticed when Greg and Archie arrived or sit on each side of him. He only knew how bad off Warrick was now. Time ticked by like days. The doctors were never going to come out, Nick was sure of it. He jumped severely when a hand came down on his shoulder.

"Whoa! Easy there Nick, I'm just givin' you coffee. You need it." Nick scrubbed his face vigorously, regretting it as he rediscovered the gash on his head.

"Thanks." He muttered gruffly.

"You looked like you could use it…So, what happened to the head and other little bruises? Brass let you have a go at the jerk that did this?" Nick gave a weak laugh.

"I wish." Nick gulped down the hot coffee.

"Eh, well get 'im."

"They won't get what they deserve though."

"No, but Griss and Sara are interrogating them…I heard that compared to them the Spanish Inquisition was playground material."

"Good, even if it's nowhere near what he deserves, it's something." Nick gulped the last bit of coffee, leaned his head back and before even realizing it was happening, was sound asleep. Greg and Archie looked at each other for a moment. They slip Nick venti coffee with double shots of caffeine and he falls asleep?

"Maybe someone should take him home? I think he needs it."

"I don't know, we're just little lab rats, I don't think we could lift him, even with a combine effort." Archie grinned, that was, until Nick suddenly began to snore.

"Who's here for Warrick Brown?" Greg and Archie launched from their chairs.

"Yes"

"Yes!" she smiled.

"Well, I won't sugar-coat anything for you. He's not in good shape. He made it through some extensive surgery, but there are a lot more in his future."

"What's wrong?"

"Well, he was shot twice, one was moderate but not too severe."

"And the second?" Greg prompted fearfully.

"The second entered at an angle tearing a path from his mid-stomach until it pierced his left lung and lodged in the back wall of his lung. He has severe internal bleeding. I was able to patch up most of it but the rest will have to wait until he's stronger. He has three broken ribs, one cracked, his jaw is broken, but for a break it's pretty mild. His kidneys are severely bruised. I'll be keeping a close eye on them."

"Please tell me that's all…" Archie nearly begged.

"Not completely, his wrists are in bad shape, they were tied so tightly, there might be permanent damage, it's really too soon to tell. He's close to septicemia, and he nearly bled out." They couldn't say a thing. They hadn't known _just_ how _bad_ off Warrick was now.

"O-okay…ummmmm"

"Look, the best thing you can do tonight is take him home," she pointed at Nick's snoring figure, "get some rest, and be ready for a long hard road. Warrick doesn't have a very big chance for living, so you need to be at your best. He needs you now more than ever." They gulped simultaneously.

"Alright, just…call if something changes." She nodded. They then began the daunting task of waking Nick enough to steer him towards the car.

"Niiiick…Nick…Niiiiiiiiick…" Greg looked disgruntled shaking his shoulder roughly.

"I don't think he's waking up Greggo."

"Yeah I think you're right, go find a wheelchair. I don't feel like lugging him the whole way to the car. " Archie went on the search for a wheelchair to steal…errrm…borrow, finding one fairly quickly. It was not however, quick or easy getting Nick _into_ the chair. They'd seen limp noodles stiffer than him.

"Any more relaxed and he'd be dead." Greg grunted, sure he was going to collapse and be eternally squished under Nick, flat as a pancake. After a good ten minutes they were finally able to dump him into the chair and wheel him outside. The car was nearly impossible. The night are echoed bangs and 'ouches' a plenty. In the end they sat in the front seat, cut and bruised from all the bumps and scrapes, Nick sprawled across the back.

"Next time…we max him out on caffeine." Archie breathed heavily. Greg agreed.

--oo0oo—

Catherine woke with a start, jolting upright. Her whole body hurt. Her head was splitting into tiny pieces, soon to explode. The world spun crazily around her causing her to groan with nausea._ Don't throw up….don't throw up….whatever you do, don't throw up._ She breathed deeply, in and out, in and out, trying to settle the world. Slowly, shakily, she scooted backwards, grateful when she made it to the unyielding support of a wall, her arms trembling badly. She swallowed thickly. So thirsty. She just needed a drink. Water, she would do anything for some water. Her eyes felt like there was gritty sand between them and the far too heavy lids. Sleep. She need to sleep. So tired.

Sluggishly she looked about the room, trying to move as little as possible. It was a small, dark, and bare room; just four walls and a sturdy looking wooden door with a single light bulb hanging from a rusty chain in the middle of the room. After her cursory exam she found a spot on the floor and stared at it vacantly. She wanted so badly to sleep, but some small voice in the back of her mind told her not to sleep. She was too tired to argue with it. At some point she did drift to sleep, but she didn't realize until she woke to the slam of a door. Looking around she saw that there was now a small cup that looked like stained wood, near her. Lethargically she bumbled her way towards it with a dull curiosity. It was just larger than a shot glass and with with…_Water!_ She grabbed the cup excitedly if not a bit clumsily, nearly spilling it, and gulped down the cold, stale water in two gulps, crying out for more. She was so thirsty.

Dismayed and unsatisfied she crawled back to the corner she'd been leaning into and curled into a ball tightly, cradling her now numb wrist. She ached everywhere, shivering with cold, tired, thirsty, hungry, and her head throbbed viciously. She wanted to go home. She wanted to feel safe again, protected. _Warrick, he'd keep me safe….is he even alive? What's he going through? Hopefully nothing bad. Where's Lindsey. I pray she isn't going through anything like this._ Catherine's thoughts wandered of their own volition, many of them coming and going without her awareness of them. Time went by without record as she drifted tiredly, no control over her thoughts, or anything around her for that matter. The next time the door opened she never noticed until someone had grabbed her arm and ripped her to her feet. She swayed feeling weak in the knees. There were two men in the room, strangers. _What happened to Eddie?_ They were talking, about her, something about use and price. She couldn't really keep track of the conversation. She did however catch little snippets of the talk and much of it resided around her wrist and its condition. At least that's what she thought she was hearing, she couldn't really think clearly enough to know for sure. Then one of the men left and the other let her sink to the floor again, leaning against the wall.

"Well, it looks like I'm going to be forced to reset your wrist after all. Oh well, if it gets a better price, guess it's worth the time." That was the only clear sentence she heard. She barely held back the winces as he not-so-gently probed her wrist for the breaks until he _really_ began to probe deeply into her arm. Then she couldn't hold back the small hisses and cries of pain. She tried to pull her arm away but he jerked it back roughly.

"Hold still, I'm ready to set this." And that's exactly what he did. Without warning he twist and turned the bones, often making them grate together. She couldn't help but cry, still trying to pull her arm away, but he was stronger than her. When he finally finished she pulled her arm to her stomach weakly and cried. She barely registered the harsh whispers nearby.

"You got to do something."

"Why? You goin soft Eddie?" Eddie stiffened angrily at the suggestion.

"No, I jus don't want to hear it and neither will your buyers." He hissed back.

"Fine" Catherine wasn't truly aware as the man grabbed her good arm turning it until he could access the vein. She never did realize what he was doing. Reality was blurring incomprehensively. She stared at Eddie for a time. He had a hard look on his face but for a moment, maybe in her confusion, she thought she saw a look of regret. It disappeared quickly. The other man produced a syringe filled with a drug, injected it quickly, dropped her arm, and stalked out of the room. Catherine only knew that her whole body relaxed to the point she couldn't move, her mind slowed considerably, everything going numb as she drifted away.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

Nick woke with a groan. Boy did his head hurt. Achy he sat up slowly from the couch? He blinked groggily and looked around. _Who's house is this? How did I get here?_ He scrubbed his face a little, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. He stood but it was a bit too fast and the room did a turn-about and his many bruises protested. _Oh yeah, car accident. Better move a little slower._ He shuffled about the house, his mind twirling for the answer of who's house he was at.

"Afternoon Nicky." Greg chimed. Nick nearly jumped out of his skin.

"Uuuuhhh…hi…this your house?"

"Nope, we're at Archie's. My apartment's too small for guests."

"I thought we were at the hospital? Wait, how's Warrick? What're we doing here? We should be there!" Nick blurted rapidly.

"Chill, you fell asleep at the hospital and the doctor sent us home. Warrick's still with us, barely."

"Oh."

"C'mon you two, stop gabbing and get in here, lunch is ready." Greg hopped his way to the dining room. Nick trudged, his head was really hurting.

"Archie? What is this?" Greg asked pointing to the food on his plate.

"It's food, eat it." Nick grinned a little as Greg poked at the food. Hesitantly he took a bite and flamboyantly made a choking noise and spit it out again.

"Tofu! TOFU! You're trying to poison me!" Archie glared and Nick grinned.

"Stop whining or I'll get the crowbar and shove it in…again." Greg was silent for a moment seeming to measure the weight of the threat.

Archie never saw it coming, the blob of blended cauliflower. There was a loud splat, and Archie's nose disappeared beneath the blob. Archie was perfectly still for a totally count of three, then a spoon full of mush smashed against Greg's face covering a greater portion than his own attack on Archie had. The dam broke. Food flew through the air rapidly, Greg and Archie instantly getting covered.

Nick never did figure out how he got dragged into the food fight, but instantly the three of them were chucking food at each other, shouting, diving, ducking and laughing like the teenagers they never grew out of, the stress and worries off their shoulders….for a time.

--oo0oo—

Catherine lay as still as she could hold her body. Everything hurt. Her head splitting, her throat burning, her stomach stinging with hunger, her eyelids rough and gritty as sand paper, and her wrist was beyond description. She had no clue how much time had passed since she came here; wherever here actually was. She wanted to jump up and kick the door down. She wanted to run for home, to see Warrick again, but she couldn't seem to make her body move beyond becoming more tense, and that just made it hurt worse. So instead she lay there, letting the world happen around her.

It was hard to stay awake, most of the time she failed drifting into sleep against her will. Most of the time, when she did sleep, it never helped, she always felt so tired. Occasionally someone would bring her some water, but it was such a small amount that it became more of a torture than a relief. Still she drank it out of sheer desperation. They were back again. There was one man that always came but the second was always different. They pulled her sharply to her feet. Catherine had to lock her knees to keep them from buckling under her.

"She's a pretty little mouse, isn't she." The newcomer said. Catherine just stared at the usual spot on the wall blankly. The man circled her slowly, lifting her chin, his eyes scouring her face and body critically. It made her feel like a worthless piece of property being examined. He sauntered behind her throwing her hair over one of her shoulders with a gentility that surprised her. He ran his hand along the small of her back _inside_ her shirt.

"Aw, a modest little mouse too, even cuter when she blushes." The man taunted.

"The modest ones are the best quality, if I may say so myself" the man gripping her arm stated.

"I quite agree. She must be a lively one. There's no permanent damage along with these bruises I hope. It would depreciate the profit quite a bit."

"No sir, no permanent damage, just some temporary marks to keep her subdued."

"Very well, make sure there aren't any new marks on her. I'll be back in a few days for her transportation. You have some fine merchandise here." That was it. That was all it took. Catherine snapped. With all the ferocity she could muster she broke free of the man holding her upper arm and tried to slam her elbow into the 'buyers' gut. Unfortunately in her slowed condition, he was easily faster, grabbing both her wrists and twirling her around so her back pressed against his chest, her arms crossing her chest.

"You're a feisty little thing. This what you wanted? Getting to work early eh? _Fine by me_." He whispered into her ear and began to trail kisses down her neck. Catherine shivered with disgust a grimace on her face and slammed her weight backwards trying to resist.

"No? Oh well, you aren't paid for anyways." He slung her back to the corner she'd been huddled in and stalked out of the room, the lock clicking loudly. Catherine sobbed.

--oo0oo—

Shorty sat in the chair nervously, twitching and jumping without provocation. He couldn't stop, he couldn't think, his veins burned with yearning. He only needed a little, a small dose. He just needed to shoot up again. This was worse than torture yet no one would stop it. His head was exploding, over and over, he was so thirsty yet all the water he drank didn't even touch at his thirst.

His stomach was twisting into knots. He needed to move but he was restricted to the chair. A grey haired man stared unblinking at him. That was all he'd been doing for a long time. It unnerved him. He wanted to run away and hide. There was something terrifying about him. He could see the rage being held back in his eyes. If he could he was sure the man was tear him to pieces. _Why? What did I ever do to him?_

"Wh-what d-do you w-want?" he stuttered nervously.

"Where. Is. Catherine." He gritted out between clenched teeth. A chill ran up Shorty's spine.

"I-I don't know. Eddie t-took her. D-didn't tell me w-where." The man was like a robot, never needing to blink.

"You. Are. Lying." Shorty gulped.

"I-I…"

"Just tell me where Catherine and her daughter Lindsey are. Make things easier for you." Shorty's eyes darted about the room uneasily, looking for an escape that didn't exist. He wanted to tell, but…he'd heard the stories too. The stories of what happened to weaklings that squealed.

"I-I…I can't…" he hung his head. That was his chance to get out and he was too cowardly to take it.

--oo0oo—

"Dude, you are evil. You took all the hot water!" Greg bemoaned vigorously toweling his again clean hair dry.

"Your own fault, you started it and you weren't smart enough to get to the bathroom first." Nick laughed at Greg and his pouting face. Archie came back from a closet with a bucket and mop.

"Here you go, get started while I get a nice cold shower." He sauntered towards the hall.

"What? Why do I have to clean up? Make Nicky do it?" he whined.

"No, you started the food fight, Nicky was being a good boy and eating his food, besides, he was in a car accident yesterday." Nick grinned cheesily.

"Cheat." Greg hissed trudging to the dining room. He groused the entire time. Nick supervised as was according to the natural order of things.

"So, where are we headed next oh devious teenage partner in crime?" Nick asked flamboyantly.

"To work, by the time Arch is out and the floor is clean it'll be time to go." Nick's face dropped to a frown.

"I'm not sure I should go." He muttered.

"What? Why? It's just work? You aren't _that_ sore are you?" Greg asked staring at him.

"No, I'm not sore, I just…I just don't think Griss wants me there." Greg rolled his eyes.

"Nicky, don't go taking what Griss said personally cause he was blowing off steam. I know he didn't mean any of it. He's just extremely stressed and scared for everyone missing and you pointed out something that he should have been doing. He snapped, that was all. Besides, if anyone isn't wanted now it's me."

"Fine, I'll go, guess we'll just have to see what happens won't we?"

"Good boy." Greg stood quickly and patted Nick on the head.

"We're still teens aren't we? I sure don't remember ever getting past that age."

"Best way to live Nicky, as teenage boys!"

--oo0oo—

Archie stood, staring at the motionless figure lying on the sterile bed behind the window. Warrick looked dead. He was so pale. His condition was so critical that only the most sterile of doctors were allowed in the room with him, and they probably spent a good ten minutes scrubbing before they came. Warrick had at least half a dozen different iv's hooked to him, a ventilator to breathe for him, a heart monitor that simply declared more brilliantly how weak he was, and numerous machines that Archie had no clue what they did. He had volunteered to watch over Warrick. He wasn't needed at the lab right now. There wasn't any electronic evidence so it wouldn't be a loss, but there had been mountains of DNA and plenty more for field work so if Greg or Nick or Sara stayed the lab would be losing a valuable asset. An asset that could help bring home Catherine and Lindsey.

"Are you two close friends?" a nurse asked handing him a strong cup of coffee.

"No, not close friends, more like close colleges. We'd hang out occasionally, mostly when Greg, another college and my friend would invite me to go along with the gang."

"Different circles?"

"Yeah, pretty much. I mean we get along fine but neither of us has made an effort to really be friends, though we could probably be friends if we really tried."

"So why haven't you? I mean, everyone could use another friend." Archie gulped his coffee.

"I don't know. I guess I always saw him as more of the jock and me as the geek meant to avoid his circles."

"It doesn't have to be that way. You aren't in high school anymore. Besides, having a jock around could be a good thing, chase away the mean bullies."

"I thought you said this wasn't high school?"

"Touché. So what 'bout this Greg? What circles does he travel in?" she inquired.

"Both I guess, that or he's a circle unto himself. He's a bit odd, a likeable odd, but odd never-the-less."

"So why can't you travel both circles?"

"Better question."

"What?"

"Will we even get that chance?" no answer.


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N: Hey my happy little readers...at least I hope you're happy. I'm sick but you still get this. You shouldn't have to suffer with me(though my characters will) for all of my Just Stay Alive readers, I'm working on the sequel again. It's gonna keep it's last name...Fated, I hope to start posting soon...You love me...I know...anyways...disclaimer, Don't own em, don't sue me!!!**

Chapter 14

Greg barely got in the door to the lab when he was paged by Grissom. Being summoned to death row was how he thought of it. He didn't move for a moment gulping the lump in his throat. Nick stared at him sympathetically.

"Greg…" he put a hand on each shoulder, "good luck." He nodded nervously, dragging his feet the entire way.

"Greg, close the door please." _No! Not that! Anything but that! I want witnesses!_ He complied and stood before the desk in a thick silence. Time ticked slowly.

"Greg, I'm sorry." He collapsed into the chair behind him.

"W-what?"

"I'm sorry. I was mad and I took it out on you guys. I shouldn't have done that. You were right." Greg was speechless. This _was not_ what he'd been expecting. He was prepared for a little pink slip.

"Ummmm…" Grissom smiled.

"You were expecting to get fired weren't you." Greg blushed.

"Kind of."

"I thought about it, but then I cooled off and thought that you shouldn't be fired for saying what needed to be said."

"Heh heh, thanks." Greg smiled nervously.

"One thing though."

"What?"

"I thought I made you nervous?" Greg relaxed.

"You do. Archie can testify, I immediately hid in the bathroom and had a panic attack. I never want to have to do that again."

"Well I don't intend for there to be anymore need, but I trust you'll be there speaking your mind either way."

"Ahem…I'd rather not." Greg edged out of the room slowly sensing an end to the conversation. Gil called Sara and Nick in next. It was an awkward conversation for him.

--oo0oo—

Brass stared down at the weasel of a man with a cold hard stare. The man couldn't sit still or even look at a single object for more than three seconds. Definitely in need of a fix again. Perfect, let the man suffer, it'll wear him down and he'll start talking. He began to circle around Lionel Ricks slowly making every step heavier than usual, taking especially slow steps when he was out of the man's line of sight. It worked supremely. The man was jumping and twitching with anticipation and need.

"Lionel Ricks, you've been into drugs almost your entire life. You're pretty successful for a small time, out of the home, dealer. That was, until you hooked up with Eddie Willows. He couldn't stay out of the drugs could he? Used more than he sold, spent more than he earned. You two went into the red and stayed there."

"W-what do y-you really kn-know?" he stammered nervously.

"I know that you didn't start this addiction, I know you were forced into it." Brass pushed.

"Wh-what? H-how could y-you know a-anything?"

"We know everything about you. Once we caught you in the act with Mr. Brown it was pretty easy to get the warrants and open your life like a book. Your father was in the drug business, doing bigger deals than you do. He started using you as a test to make sure he had the mixes right before selling them when you were five. You didn't know there was anything wrong about taking drugs and when you did find out, you couldn't get off of them you were so addicted. Eventually you gave up and started your own drug dealing business."

"I…I…but…" Lionel was speechless.

"You've been wanting out for a long time, even checked yourself into rehab a few times. Each time though some old buddy of your father's would show up wouldn't they? They would always manage to get you out of there and dish you up a buffet of drugs. You realized you never had a chance so you quit trying."

"You're wrong!" Lionel shouted angrily. They couldn't say this! They couldn't know this!

"Your business deals started to get bigger, the shipments bigger. You became somewhat of a major supplier, you realized you needed an extra hand so you got a partner, Eddie Willows, a few years back." Brass iterated forcefully.

"Nononononono…" Lionel slapped his hands over his ears, chanting, anything to shut out the words.

"He didn't turn out to be such a good partner did he Lionel? He used more drugs than he sold. Unlike you however, he didn't want out of the business did he? Then he started losing the shipments, mostly police raids, but he sold them to other buyers didn't he Lionel? You lost your good reputation. You even wanted out, wanted to leave the business but you were in too deep. You were working for other suppliers now and if you tried to drop out they'd come after you, wouldn't they? You had to get money another way, you were desperate, so you started selling organs on the black market. Mostly homeless people disappearing, until you got Warrick, he was collateral you had to get rid of, so why not make money off of him too?" Lionel was staring silently ahead now, panicking.

"No." he whispered.

"Lionel, I want you to know the trouble you're into. We've got enough on drug possession alone for several years jail time, but then we've got you on three counts kidnapping, one attempted murder which may become murder. Oh and don't forget all the blood DNA we're finding in the wood frame, over 100 different donors, that'll get you pretty close to the needle if not all the way. If you help us, we can get your sentence reduced." As Brass spoke he removed the bags of evidence from a small box he'd brought in, mostly it was the drugs, a tourniquet, a filled syringe, bags of powder, and some un-smoked joints. They tantalized Lionel, he wanted them so bad, they were so close. He _needed_ them.

"I-I c-can't…they'll come after m-me…but w-won't k-kill me…"

"Lionel, we can protect you, think about what's happening. We've got you on all of this, you will do time. But what about Eddie? If you don't tell us where he is, he'll get off scot free and you'll be serving his time. If you tell us what we need to know, he goes to jail, you get a reduced sentence _and_ protection. It's a better deal then you'll ever get from them or from silence. You want out, everyone knows you want out. You never wanted the drugs in the first place. This is your chance. Take it." Brass pushed a legal pad with a pen on top towards Lionel.

"Y-you'll keep me s-safe?"

"No one will ever get to you." Brass assured.

"I'll h-have the h-help to get off the d-drugs?" he stuttered.

"All the help you need, but you have to tell us where they are if you want the help." Brass reiterated. Lionel's eyes jumped about as if looking for a lie then slowly, very slowly, he picked up the pen and began to write, the flood breaking free. The rescue team developed instantaneously.

--oo0oo—

Archie stood, leaning heavily against the wall, looking in at Warrick. He was exactly the same he'd been since they found him. Seven eighths dead. He wasn't improving, he wasn't getting worse, he remained the same. The heart monitor's visible pulse was slow, weak, and unsteady. The ventilator breathed deeply and slowly, with a steady rhythmic pace. His skin looked so pale, it was near transparent with a yellow tinge from the bruising. He'd lost so much blood, much of it already replaced, but the slightest of jostles and he bled once more.

His condition was about as fragile as it could get. The fever was keeping him weak. The doctors said that there were things that could be done to reduce it, but Warrick was _so_ weak that the process would probably kill him. They had to wait for him to regain his strength, _if_ he ever did regain it. Archie jumped when someone materialized next to him.

"So, is he any better?" Nick asked quietly handing Archie a refill of coffee.

"Bout the same, I suppose a little better. That's what the white-coats are saying at least. I can't see it though. They said to just be glad he made it through the night. Every night he lives though his chances improve apparently."

"If they say so, I'll try to believe." Nick stared through the window silently.

"So why are you here? Don't you have oodles of work to do?" Nick sighed heavily.

"Yeah, Griss sent me home. I'm sick again. My head is pounding and if anyone so much as mentions food I'm hurling again. I can barely handle coffee. Anyways, Griss saw me in the middle of a little dizzy spell and said not to come back." Archie grimaced.

"That's a bummer. The drugs are still in your system?"

"No, but I'm still able to get sick from them apparently. I'd had a headache before, but I didn't realize it was from the drugs until everything else hit. I think I'm off for a week, not really sure. He pulled me off the case at the same time Ricks finally broke. They're on their way to the location now. I think it was a warehouse or something about that size." Archie could see it written on his face. Nick wanted to be there, not here.

"They know where Catherine and Lindsey are?"

"Yep, 'pparently Ricks wanted out of the business anyways, this was the last straw I guess. Confessed to everything, gave the location, practically begged us to hide him away."

"They should just shoot him. It would be the kindest punishment, and more satisfying." Archie spat.

"I couldn't agree more." Nick gulped the last swig of his coffee and walked to the trash about fifteen feet away. Halfway back to Archie, who was watching him for lack of anything else more interesting, when suddenly Nick's world lurched upside down with a weird spin, his head pounding, his stomach threatening to retch.

He didn't hear Archie shout at him and barely noticed him crouched in front of him. He only knew that his knees had buckled beneath him, landing hard, barely managing to hold himself upright, hands pressing hard against the cold floor.

"I think….I….should….go home…" he gritted out taking deep breaths suddenly concerned that he was going to pass out. He could barely hear Archie over the roaring in his ears.

"I think you need checked out first. C'mon." he was barely staying awake as Archie lifted him with a struggle to his feet. He was dismayed at how heavily he had to lean on the smaller man for support. A few stumbled steps later he was being set down again, his back coming in contact with a wall.

"M'fine…" he mumbled quietly too tired for any more.

"You stay here Nick, I'm going to get a doctor. Don't go anywhere." Archie ordered.

"M'fin'…" Nick slurred once more barely looking conscious. Archie just shook his head and stood to find the doctor. Suddenly a high pitched screech, almost like a scream, split the silence. Archie stopped in his tracks, whipping around to face Warrick, and the flat line.

"Help! Somebody help!" he looked around frantically for doctors but this section was fairly isolated. There weren't many this severely injured.

"Warrick! Don't do this! Stay with us! C'mon man! Don't do this to us!"


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

Grissom gripped the steering wheel with white knuckles. They were finally going to get Catherine and Lindsey back. The real owner of the vehicle, sitting in the passenger seat, gripping anything he could grab onto, trying not to cry with fright. He really didn't like Grissom driving right now. The other backup cars had to scramble to keep up with him. His foot only got heavier as each second ticked by. It had taken too long to get the address, to find them. He could never get there fast enough. Why was it that whenever they had to rescue someone close, it was from the farthest point in Vegas. It was infuriating everlasting. They were never going to get there in time.

The warehouse was a large building, they had a large group just to search it adequately. They wiould search it in groups of two, all to find Lindsey and Catherine, that was their main objective. He prayed that they were not anywhere near the horrible condition that they'd found Warrick. Especially to Lindsey, she was far too young, too innocent to have to go through any of this. She'd already gone through too much. Tires screeched, shattering the silent approach, the smell of burnt rubber filling the air. He jumped out of the vehicle, operating on a level of efficiency he'd never before achieved.

--oo0oo—

Catherine lay perfectly still. She was so tired. Her stomach growled viciously with the idle threat, suffering from icy hunger pains. Her mouth felt like sandpaper. She no longer drank the measly gulps of water they gave her. It was more torture than relief. Especially with the thought of having been bought and paid for, destined to live out the rest of her life as someone's plaything, a toy for the man. Drinking the water only prolonged her suffering. She couldn't, _wouldn't_ do it. She was so tired. She just wanted to sleep, and never wake again. What was the point in waking? She'd lost Warrick. She lost her daughter. She'd even lost herself. She didn't react when the door snapped open again. It was that man comeback.

He yanked her to her feet again. She struggled against him weakly but she was heavily dependent on him to keep her standing. He only laughed at her feeble attempts and dragged her outside the room. They didn't get far however as she found herself again pinned to a wall, forced into a rough, supposed-to-be passionate kiss. She felt the blood rush to her head with the anger and confusion. Wasn't she supposed to be worthless trash? And yet no matter where she was or who she was with men were coming onto her constantly. She tried to force him out of her mouth but he only pressed deeper. He trailed the vile kisses across her jaw, sinking them down to her neck beginning to nip and bite painfully. That was when she bit back, not lovingly but violently, aiming for the artery in his neck.

He screamed, jerking away from her, slamming a fist into her cheek. She collapsed to the ground, the world spinning around her rapidly. The man stood over her for a moment as if indecisive of what to do. It didn't last long as he grabbed her by the throat so that she could barely breathe, just enough to stay conscious. He growled something in her ear but she didn't hear over the roar in her ears. Suddenly he was pistol-whipping her, her head jerking away from the blows only to be knocked back by another blow. The world was mere pinpoints. Abruptly he dropped her and the kicks came, fast and hard, jarring her whole body. Pain radiated everywhere like fire consuming her, unable to even curl into a protective ball the blows came so quickly. The world faded again, every sound, every scream so distant and faint. Blackness creeping into what was left of her vision, her brain fogging over. Catherine never heard the shots.

--oo0oo—

Grissom weaved through hall after hall, checking every room for the people he couldn't find. The building was too large. He had to find them _now_. The chatter over the radio was constant and not helpful. No one else had found them either. They had to be here somewhere. He passed a window and froze. There was a floor below them and there, held up by a meaty fist, being beaten with a gun was Catherine. Gil's insides lurched, his blood boiling. _No one_ did this to _his team_. Ever. He sped forward, desperately looking for the way down there. He had to get to Catherine. His partner struggled to keep up with him. He flew down a set of stairs three steps at a time, stopping to reorient himself at the bottom. Grissom barreled towards the sound of Catherine's ever-weakening cries.

"LVPD! STOP AND BACK AWAY FROM HER!" he yelled enraged. The man neither stopped nor hesitated. Grissom shot three times. It only took one. He threw the body away from Catherine, kneeling next to her quickly. Her eyes were nearly rolled back into her head completely, shaking weakly, on the brink of unconsciousness. He lifted her gently to sit up, supporting her as she leaned against that wall, head lolling forward weakly.

"Catherine. Catherine. Stay with me." She groaned feebly, hardly becoming more alert.

"Mr. Grissom?" the officer asked uneasily. They could gunfire beginning to spread through the building.

"We have to get her out of here. Now." He ordered, scooping her into his arms and gently lifted her. She moaned, head rolling onto his chest, tensing up and gripping his vest as the overwhelming sensation of falling consumed her. "Shhh…it's okay, I've got you."

--oo0oo—

Brass moved swiftly through the building. So far he hadn't found anyone except perpetrators. They all shot back before he could demand answers. He was going to have to catch one by surprise if he intended to find Catherine and Lindsey quicker that it would take to search the entire building. He suddenly turned a corner to face a man lowering a dock door, a semi-truck parked just outside, with his back to him. He pressed his gun against the man's head.

"LVPD, where are they?" he hissed quietly. He jabbed at the head slightly, prodding for an answer.

"Th-the truck. Th-they're in the truck." He stuttered. Brass nodded sharply, the two officers behind him coughing him roughly. He checked for other perpetrators but the area was clear, and the truck unlocked. He yanked the door open jumping into the truck. There were nearly forty kids, none looking to even be thirteen, tied with ropes to metal rings bolted to the floor or the walls. Most were near lethargic, bordering unconscious they were so neglected. There in the farthest corner or the back of the truck, was Lindsey. She huddled in a corner, her hands hanging heavily from a ring on the wall, eyeing him like a dangerous predator, her eyes filled with terror. When he approached her she shrank away with a whimper.

"Shhh…it's okay, I'm not going to hurt you. My name is Jim, I'm a friend of your mom. I'm taking you home." She still watched him fearfully but she didn't shy away from, much, when he sliced through the ropes. When he scooped her into his arms to carry her out of the truck she clung to and buried her face into his neck sobbing uncontrollably. Brass had to struggle reining back his anger at how cold she felt, or the trembles wracking her small body and the garish bruises all down her arms and some on her face, rope burns on her wrists. An officer escorted him back beyond the police perimeter while two officers worked untied the other children, most just curling into a ball lethargically.

At the ambulance Lindsey refused to let go of Brass, let alone unbury her face from his neck. The paramedic tried to coax her to at least face him and still sit on Brass but she would even consider so they ended up just wrapping a blanket around her so she wouldn't be cold. A few minutes later Brass saw Grissom crossing the perimeter quickly, carrying Catherine whom looked to be in poor condition. He climbed into another ambulance and they were off to the hospital.

--oo0oo—

Everything swirled about him, the loud, constant screech hurting his ears. His heart thudded against his pained chest. _Why does my chest hurt?_ He tried to move but his body didn't respond. He tried to open his eyes but the lids were too heavy. Everything he tried he couldn't do. He could only hear what went on around him. People were shouting everywhere, there was a mechanical whine then a discharge much like that of a nail gun, but different._ Am I dreaming?_ Then there was a beep. He could barely hear it, but he did hear the numerous sighs of relief.

Then they were all around them, pulling and tugging at him.He thought he could hear them calling his name. He didn't know for sure. Then there was a hand on his pulse point on his neck, something cold and circular moving around on his chest. He wanted to groan, to push them all away but he could move. His chest felt like it was going to explode his heart beat so hard. Someone pulled his eyelids open and unbearable light blinded him. Suddenly he felt himself being lifted. Or was he falling? Then he was moving forward on his back. He could hear a squeaky wheel somewhere. Then they were pulling at his clothes. He could feel them pulling off his shirt and pants. He tried to move, to yell at them to stop what they were doing, but there was something wrong with his throat. He couldn't swallow, couldn't move it. He could only tell that it hurt. Then he was lifted again, something stabbed into his arm, another thing slipped over his mouth and nose. Everything faded to black.

**A/N: Sorry this is so late, I honestly forgot about you guys. I haven't been able to work on my fanfiction in about 3 weeks until now. that's what happens when you buy a horse...hehe...hope you guys like this story. R&R!!**


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

Catherine stared ahead vacantly, eyes glazed over and half lidded. Grissom struggled to keep her conscious as she drifted closer and closer to the edge. He held a Ziploc filled with frozen peas to her swollen face even though his hand burned it was so cold now. He talked to her softly trying to give her something to focus on besides the paramedics' ministrations. She moaned when they began to examine her wrist, darkness creeping upon her again. She tried to move towards the voice that was calling her back, but she was so tired. She just needed to sleep, letting the darkness take her. The paramedics had to constantly reassure Grissom that she wasn't going to die, that it was just the concussion, but after finding Warrick the way he was, he was still paranoid.

When they arrived at the hospital he visibly relaxed. They wheeled her away quickly, but not in the rush that showed risk of life. Gil was left to wander. He didn't know what to do with himself now. He'd succeeded. He brought his team home, two out of three for sure to live. What about Warrick? He sighed dismally. He did the best he could for Warrick. It was up to the doctors now. For now he decided to find Nick, waving down a nurse.

"Excuse me, where can I find Nick Stokes?" the woman flipped through her pages on the clipboard she held. _Why would she be looking at her clipboard?_ He wondered idly.

"Mr. Stokes was just settled into room 403 on the next floor."

"What do you mean he was settled into the room?" he asked the panic rising.

"Mr. Stokes was admitted to the hospital over two hours sir." His heart stopped.

'Th-thank you miss." He stammered running past to the elevator. He closed the distance between him and the designated time with what was probably the world's fastest time. The door flew open. There was Nick, in a bed, either asleep or unconscious, an iv and heart monitor attached to him, and an oxygen mask. Archie was slumped incredibly in a chair next to the bed, head resting heavily on the back of the chair, dark circles under his eyes, seemingly asleep. He had never looked so exhausted in his life.

"What happened!?" Archie flailed wildly for a moment as he lurched awake. He blinked at Grissom for a moment then vigorously rubbed the sleep out of his eyes.

"He had an allergic reaction to the drugs. The doc said he'd be fine a few days." Gil was speechless for a moment. Archie decided it was best to keep Warrick's flat line to himself. They got him back after all, so why put more fear on everyone else?

"O-oh, okay." He bumbled, unsure of the answer.

"Did you find Catherine and Lindsey?" Archie inquired hopefully.

"Yeah, yeah, we found them." He stated tiredly, finding the other chair.

"Are they okay?" he prodded again.

"Catherine's pretty beat up, but they think she'll be fine. I don't know about Lindsey, Brass found her."

"But they are alive. We can't ask for more than that now." Grissom nodded. Personally, he would ask for this to never have happened, but that wasn't fair, he couldn't turn back time. They sat in silence for a while. It wasn't long before Archie fell asleep again. Grissom took that as his cue to leave for a time. They were all worn out. Everything about this case had been draining. Next he watched over Warrick for a while with a sense of loss.

He was no closer to life then he'd been earlier. He stayed for a long time for he felt that if he left, it would be the last he saw Warrick, ever. Later, he found Catherine, still unconscious, expected to be that way for a day or two. Lindsey had already been sent home, mostly needing food and rest. Greg would take good care of her, though it had apparently taken hours for her to be convinced he wasn't out to hurt her. The next few days passed quietly and slowly, a lull in the storm that had been raging. Archie watched over Nick, Grissom with Catherine, Greg caring for Lindsey, and all of them taking turns with Warrick. He was improving, according to the doctors, but it never carried over into visual improvement, he simply managed to stay alive day in and day out. It was rough going. He flat lined every day for nearly a minute minimum. So far they were always able to bring him back to life.

Two days after he was hospitalize, Nick woke up. Everything felt thick and heavy, like he was in a fog. His throat hurt, it _burned_. He tried to swallow but it wouldn't obey his command. His tongue felt thick and clumsy, his eyes gritty and sore. He blinked a few times sluggishly, taking in his surroundings slowly. It was too white. Too bright. Then he saw Archie grinning at him, looking very tired. He opened his mouth to speak but this strange, choked croak came out instead, fire lancing through his throat.

"Don't try to talk. You'll only make it worse. You're throat is really swollen." Archie stated having expecting this reaction. Nick looked at him confused. Why was he in the hospital? He didn't remember what happened, just that awful dizzy spell while he was talking with Archie then everything was muddled and gone. "You had a moderate allergic reaction to the drugs, gave me a good scare too." Nick gave him a meek, apologetic smile. Archie handed him pen and paper.

"_How long do I have to stay?"_ he scrawled quickly.

"Until your throat isn't so swelled you can't eat or drink. So I'd say…ummm…two or three days." Nick frowned.

"_Whyyyyyyy? Can't I go home now?"_ Archie laughed at him and the little frowning smiley he drew.

"No, you can't eat or drink. They've got you hooked up to some scary tubes. Remind me never to get so sick I have to be feed through tubes. It's just plain creepy." Nick glared viciously. Archie only grinned.

--oo0oo—

Catherine was vaguely aware that she existed again. Everything was black and sluggish and she couldn't even try to form a thought, but she was aware. Time drifted by slowly and she became aware of other things. Her body throbbed painfully in time with her heartbeat. The room was spinning slightly, filled with strange mechanical noises. She blinked sluggishly a few times. Everything was bright and white.

"Uuunngh." She groaned lifting a far too heavy hand to clutch her forehead.

"Hey Catherine, it's good to see you again." Griss said softly.

"Griss? What happened? Where am I?" she asked quietly, her voice hoarse.

"You're at the hospital. We found you two or three days ago. It's over." He reassured.

"Sure?" she asked unsure.

"Absolutely. This is over, all of it. You're safe now." He assured her again. She was silent for a few minutes, looking as exhausted as he was sure she was.

"Lindsey!" Catherine shouted, bolted straight up only to double over with a loud his, clutching her ribs with the arm in a cast and sank back to the bed slowly.

"It's okay Catherine, we found her, she's safe." He blurted hurriedly seeing her maternal panic kicking into full gear.

"She's okay?" she asked scared.

"She's fine Catherine, Greg's watching her until you're ready to take her back." Gil explained. Catherine sighed with relief.

"Tell Greg thanks for me."

"Of course." He replied.

"So, what am I in here for? I've lost count." She asked tiredly.

"You've got a concussion, a few broken ribs, obviously a broken wrist which has already been repaired and just needs time, dehydration, malnutrition, and a mess of bruises." He explained. The room was silent for quite a while after that and Grissom was wondering if she'd fallen asleep.

"What about Warrick? Did you find Warrick?" she asked sadly. Gil couldn't answer at first.

"We found Warrick." His voice was low an depressed.

"He's dead…isn't he?" she sounded near tears already.

"No, he's not dead…but…" he choked.

"But what?" she demanded.

"His chances aren't good Cath, we don't know if he'll make it. The doctors are saying it's a miracle he's lived this long." There were days when Grissom wished he had some great talent at lying and sugar-coating the truth, but he couldn't. Catherine was silent. He could see the tears welling up, but they didn't fall. She simply turned onto her side, facing away from him and remained silent.


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

The days passed extremely slowly. Catherine mostly slept and was unresponsive when she was awake. Greg was making good progress with Lindsey. Apparently he was getting her to smile and relax again, though she was immensely anxious and shy when someone came over, ducking behind him. It was improvement and that was all he cared about. Warrick was the same, always on the brink of life and death. The doctors were refusing to say whether he would live or not. Nick was miserable, mostly out of frenetic boredom. He felt much better but still had three days of hospital stay. He was going to lose his sanity.

After another week passed, the doctors moved Warrick out of Intensive Care. They still held off judgment, but he had to have improved some if he was being moved to another room. Grissom had gone to the hospital that day a little later than usual, stopping by Catherine's room first. His heart stopped when the room was empty. He stood stunned for a moment, trying to think where she would go. He checked with the front desk but she hadn't checked herself out. He knew only of one other place she might be. He breathed a sigh exactly four minutes and thirty eight seconds later, having counted every one. Catherine sat huddled in a chair, her heels perched dangerously on the edge of her seat, knees pressed against her chest, small lines of pain in her face. She held her hand underneath Warrick's gently, her thumb resting upon his knuckles, staring vacantly at him.

"Catherine? Are you okay?" he asked softly. She turned to look at him for a moment, her eyes dull and lifeless then turned back to Warrick silently. He gulped back a small lump in his throat. He knew he should make her go back to her own room. She needed rest and sitting like that was visibly making things worse for her, but he just couldn't make her leave.

"He'll be okay Catherine. He's fighting hard to get better. He'll be okay." Gil tried to comfort feeling a little awkward. Catherine remained silent, not that he'd been expecting an answer, but one could hope. He didn't know what else to do for her. They'd all tried to get her talking, get the truth about what happened in the open, but always she stayed silent.

Ultimately, Warrick was the key. They weren't going to get anything from Catherine until he woke up. Hopefully it would be soon. He was showing marked improvement. The doctors were starting to remove stitches. The bruises were fading fast now and he was starting to get a little color back, the fever declining. It was progress, but he was a long way from escaping the hospital. For now they just hoped for him to wake up.

Every night just before his shift started, Greg would bring a still immensely shy Lindsey to the hospital and leave her with Catherine to spend the night. The doctors weren't ecstatic about the arrangement but after seeing that she got more rest when her daughter was at her side, they let them be. Everyone was ready for this mess to be over and time was all that was left to put their lives back together.

-oo0oo-

Greg sailed through the halls silently, feeling refreshed and in a somewhat good mood, even if he was in a hospital. It was about half an hour before shift started and he thought he'd drop by and see Catherine again. He didn't have Lindsey tonight as she was having a 'girls' night, whatever that was, with Sara, but he thought Cath would enjoy the visit. At least he hoped she was enjoying the visits, he couldn't really tell. She still wasn't talking unless it was with Lindsey, nor did she smile, Lindsey being the only exception. She wasn't a patient at the hospital now but she was here so often that she may as well be. She was only gone when she was taking care of Lindsey.

Greg was about to walk into Warrick's room when he stopped short. He could hear sobbing from within. He hesitated thinking he should just give Catherine her privacy, but then, if she was crying then she should have a shoulder to cry on. He pushed the door open silently and slipped into the chair next to Catherine and without invitation wrapped her into a hug.

"Shhh…it's okay Cath, he'll be okay, Lindsey is okay, everyone is safe now….shhh…" he soothed, rubbing a hand softly across her shoulders. For a long time Catherine just cried into his shoulder listening to him try to comfort her until she couldn't cry anymore.

"I'm sorry Greg, I didn't mean to ruin your shirt." Cath apologized, sitting back and wiping away a few errant tears.

"It's okay Cath, it's just a shirt." He assured a smile on his face.

"You sure?" she asked again.

"Yes I'm sure. Feel better now?" he asked changing the subject away from his soaked shirt.

"Yeah, a little…I guess."

"Good, everyone needs a good cry I guess." He muttered slightly appalled at admitting to people needing a cry occasionally. It clashed with standard machismo.

"Thanks Greg. I guess I should have a little sooner I guess." Greg shrugged feeling awkward suddenly.

"Don't worry, I won't tell Greg, your image is safe." She grinned slightly.

"heh heh…thanks…ummmmm…you gonna be okay now?" he asked blushing now.

"I'll be okay I think." She answered giving him a small hug.

"Okay, I should um…I should get to work now….ummmm…" he stammered.

"Bye Greg." She dismissed with a widening grin.

"Bye." He squeaked scooting out of the room.

-oo0oo- **3 weeks later**

Drifting. He was drifting slowly. Everything was dark and quiet. It felt good to just drift but he didn't know why. He drifted for a long time in the quiet, but then an ache began to creep in. He tried to squirm away from the ache but it seemed to follow him and grow worse. Everything began to get really cold and felt so heavy now. There was sound now, somewhere far away. It was constant…and annoying. The noise made his head hurt and his chest was burning now with every breath.

He tried to move but he was so heavy he couldn't do it. Where was he? What had happened? Panic rose up as he struggled to move away from the ache and cold. Sluggishly he opened his eyes blasted by bright light and a wall of white. The he tried to swallow and couldn't. He felt something lodged in his throat choking him. Confused and panicked he jerked his hand to the obstruction suddenly able to move again. The noise was everywhere shouting, beeping, squeals aggravated him fighting hard to escape.

_Where was he? What happened?_

Desperately he fought to rip the obstruction from his throat but the stranger was fighting him, voices everywhere, yelling at him, barking orders he couldn't understand. They began to pry his fingers from the object though he kicked out and rebelled, tiring as he fought until they got his hand off the object and pinned it by his side. Then there was another voice, the others fading away. It was softer but just as commanding. Telling him to do something but his ears was ringing.

So tired.

He sank back into the mattress exhausted, drifting back to sleep when the voice came back, demanding something of him. _Exhale sharply? That can't be right?_ Abruptly the obstruction in his throat that he'd fought so hard to remove received a sharp yank and was gone. His throat burned hacking coughs ripping through him agonizingly. They subsided slowly, leaving a harsh ache in his chest and a soothing voice in his ear as sleep took him again.

When Warrick woke again, sometime later, the world was a great deal clearer. Everything was heavy and sluggish, but not nearly as fuzzy or confusing. He blinked tiredly in the bright light for a moment, taking in the white walls, the annoying speckled ceiling and the machines standing around him.

_The hospital?_

He looked off to his side now seeing a figure sitting in a chair, slumped steeping, head tilted back, a slight snore emanating from the person. Warrick blinked a few times trying to clear his vision which had blurred again, the clarity coming and going. He knew this person. A friend he was. After a moment he remembered the name his fogged memory had been grasping for.

"Greg?" he whispered hoarsely, surprised at the weakness in his voice. To his surprise Greg lurched forward, amazingly staying in his chair by some miracle, blinked a few times, shook the cobwebs from his mind then looked up at Warrick, a huge, ear to ear grin consuming his face.

"Warrick, you're awake." He announced sounding a bit to happy to Warrick at the moment, he wasn't quite ready for obnoxiously happy.

"Yeah….what happened?" he asked attempting to sit up but gave up hardly inches off the mattress when pain shot through his ribs.

"You don't remember?" Greg asked in surprise.

"Ummmm…" Warrick closed his eyes trying to conjure up the memory.

"Anything?"

"Something about Eddie and Catherine, someone getting shot, ummmm….yeah it's kind of fuzzy." He mumbled feeling himself start to drift asleep again.

"Yeah you've kind of got the basics. Go back to sleep, Grissom will tell you whatever you don't remember." Warrick nodded weakly quickly falling asleep hardly five minutes after waking, a strange sense of safety blanketing him like a feeling he hadn't had in a long time. He was safe….from what?


	18. Chapter 18

**A/N: HEY EVERYONE! Yes! I'm still alive!! Sorry you guys had to wait so long for a lot of these chapters. I have rewarded you with THE LAST CHAPTER! I didn't realize it was gonna be the last until I wrote it. It just seemed to me that if I tried to make the story longer I would be dragging it out and ruin it. I hope you guys liked the story and like the chapter! Reward me with loves, hugs, and reviews!!**

Chapter 18

Warrick woke again slowly. Everything felt so heavy and he was just so tired. He considered not waking up but after a moment he realized it wasn't his choice. He opened his eyes sluggishly, blinked at the bright light his eyes adjusting somewhat slower than usual, and took a deep breath. A shot of pain lanced through his chest reminding him that it still hurt to breathe, though he couldn't quite remember why.

"Warrick, how are you feeling?" Grissom asked calmly. Warrick blinked for a moment still feeling foggy.

"Good….I guess….tired…" he decided.

"That's good. Do you remember anything that happened?" Grissom asked, shifting slightly in his chair. Warrick stiffly tried to sit up further but stopped the moment pain coursed through him.

"A little…I think…picked a fight….with Eddie? Guess I lost." Warrick mused.

"It was something like that." Grissom added.

"Is…Catherine, okay?" he rasped remembering something about her being in danger.

"She's fine Warrick, everyone is okay now." Gil reassured. Warrick sank a little further into the mattress and sighed.

"That's good." He mumbled the pull of sleep strong again.

"Catherine came to see you but you were asleep." Gil stated.

"Should have woken me up." He grumbled.

"Sorry, I'll let her know that next time." Grissom apologized. Warrick nodded, slipping into sleep again.

oo0oo

Catherine chewed her lip nervously as she rushed through the halls. Warrick was awake again. Grissom had called her. She knew that Gil had told her Warrick was okay, tired, but otherwise okay, but she still had to see it before she could believe it. She burst through the door and skid to a stop. There was Warrick, sitting up in the hospital bed, making feeble attempts to reach for a cup of green jello.

"Here, let me help." She offered with a lopsided grin. She picked up the Jello tearing off the lid and handing it to him with a spoon.

"Hey, at least I can feed myself…sort of." He grumbled remembering at the last minute that he'd had to have her help to grab the food.

"It'll come." She encouraged.

"So they say." He said stuffing an over filled spoonful of jello in his mouth.

"Surviving the food?" she asked.

"It's not your cooking." He admitted with a bit of a blush.

"I'm looking forward to cooking for you again Warrick." She confessed with an equal blush. Warrick grinned finishing his jello. It was about all they were giving him so far, but they promised something more solid later. Catherine watched him mostly silent as he ate, eventually looking half asleep though like a child fighting the pull of sleep.

"I-I should go, you need to rest." She stated feeling a little awkward all of the sudden.

"You don't have to." Warrick insisted even though his eyes slipped shut only to snap open again.

"Yes I do, you need sleep and it's about time I went to work anyways." She insisted.

"Fine." He sighed. Catherine sighed for a moment then abruptly jumped up engulfing him in a massive hug.

"Ah! Ah! Owwww!!" he hissed. Catherine practically jumped away from him now.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you." She blurted in panic.

"It's…its okay…next time you could just do something…gentler…like a kiss…I-I mean just be gentler…or umm…ummm…." He babbled shocked he'd said what he said. Catherine swooped in once more shutting him up the only way she knew how, with a kiss, then ran from the room. Both Catherine and Warrick redder than beets.

oo0oo **8 Months Later**

Warrick paced slightly nervous just outside Catherine's door, chewing on his lip as he paced. He hadn't actually knocked yet. He couldn't imagine how excited and nervous he felt tonight. It was going to be a special night. It had been a rough eight months. It seemed like they had been a time of misstep after misstep with no end in sight. Catherine hadn't gone to Eddie's funeral and everyone couldn't be happier about it. It had been the first real step towards recovery. Lindsey was doing better too. She was still a degree shier than she'd been before and probably always would be, but her and Greg had become the best of buds. It wasn't long before he lost every Madden game to her…without going easy on her.

Finally he knocked on the door, taking a deep breath that hitched slightly, an aching twinge assailing his lung. It was something he suspects would be with him for the rest of his life, but he still considered himself lucky. Catherine appeared instantly all grins and looking more beautiful than any mortal man deserved, in Warrick's opinion. The drive to their dinner reservation was fairly long but he promised it to be very special indeed. Well worth the drive.

Warrick grinned lopsided at her wide-eyed expression as they walked onto the moonlit beach, a table with candle light and their own personal waiters serving them. All through the evening Warrick sat slightly distracted and nervous as Catherine chattered on animatedly, one hand in his pocket all evening;

Playing with the diamond ring.

**A/N: Anyone? Anyone?**


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